SHE WAS EXPECTING TO DIE. She was nearly sick at the thought of all the ways this man could kill her, of just how vulnerable she was. She was trapped in a glass box with no clear way out, and if this man was able to neutralize her serum from outside of the box, he could very well torture her from outside as well.

But he just kept talking with her.

"I don't know," she pressed, running her hands through her hair, leaned against the far wall, looking towards Bruce who was sitting crosslegged in front of the glass, his chin propped up onto his hand.

"You don't know where you're from?" he asked, and she shook her head, crossing her arms in front of her, and she didn't understand why she wanted to, only that she just wanted to hide from his gaze.

They had been talking for hours, Bruce badgering her with question after question, and she could hardly answer any of them at all, and there were times when Bruce found himself having to back off for fear of forcing her to spiral again.

"I don't remember," she said, because she didn't.

She could hardly remember much of her past, even in the facility, because while she was incredibly aware and had a vast array of knowledge, there were certain aspects that she just couldn't recall.

"You said they kept you in a container?" Bruce asked, and he looked pained, as if he was fighting an intense headache while speaking to her, and if she understood what he was experiencing and what it was like to speak to someone like her, she would understand why.

She simply nodded, however, because she didn't understand what it felt like. "In my room, I had a glass enclosure where I slept and was delivered my morning injection. It was bare except for the enclosure and my door where they would slip food in at times."

Bruce nodded along to her words, muttering to himself as he reached over to the notepad that he had sitting two feet away, apologizing as he scribbles notes onto it, and she didn't understand why he apologized every time he looked away from her to write, as if it affected her at all.

Maybe it did affect. Maybe it should have. Maybe many things, but at the current moment, all she wanted to do was hide, because her mind was working too fast for her to catch up, but there wasn't a part of her to hide and ignore what was happening. She was much too present and all she wanted to do was sleep.

But then she was thinking about everything that she had seen. All her memories crashed over her and she grew sick at the memories of all the people she had killed, the sound of snapping necks and bones filling her ears, so loud and vivid that she had to make sure that she wasn't hearing it then and there.

She thought of all the conversations her masters had with her in the room, yet she couldn't quite hear the words, only catching bits and pieces, growing sick at how flippant their comments were when it came to other people. She didn't understand how she still maintained so much of her humanity, yet there she was, with her legs pulled up to her chest, shaking.

She struggled to breathe, running her hand through her hair as she sobbed, no tears coming out. "Please," she begged, "I just want to sleep."

If she completed her mission, she was allowed to sleep for however long she wanted. This mission would never be completed, and, now, she would never be allowed to sleep. They would keep her there, forcing her to stay awake to atone for all that she had done.

Her masters were right; it was better to be dead than captured.

Then, "Okay. You sleep, we'll talk in the morning, I think more of the drugs will be flushed from your system."

She snapped her neck up to stare at Bruce who had stood, making his way towards his monitor, rubbing his face as he adjusted his glasses on his shirt, going over the notes he had taken. She watched each movement, how he typed onto the screen, how to sighed and groaned to himself, massaging his temples.

When he caught sight of her, he raised his eyebrows. "What's wrong?"

She didn't know what to say, because she could hardly think of how she felt in the first place. She searched for the right words and, perhaps, she was surprised. She knew this well, but not in the context that she felt. It was almost grateful, the way she was feeling, but she struggled to find the right words.

Bruce seemed to notice as he gave her a sad smile. "Hey. I'm not gonna hurt you. That's not...I don't like to make a habit of hurting people."

She could only stare at him as he finished his work and left the room, turning off the lights, because he should kill her. She had been sent to kill him, she was a threat to his person. At least, she was supposed to be. Yet there he was, sparing her life. She didn't know how to feel.

She didn't know anything at all.

º º º

She woke up on the fifth day to the sound of Bruce speaking. She was curled up on the floor, covered in a blanket that wasn't there when she had fallen asleep—how he was able to put things into the impenetrable box never ceased to puzzle her—and barely shifted when she woke; it seemed that certain habits were still in place.

She turned to find the man speaking to the room, furrowing his brow at the screens in front of him, a hand under his chin and periodically running his hand over his mouth. She found herself searching for the rhythm with which he rubbed his chin, and was pleased that it was constant; she had no reason to search, yet there she was.

"—so just call me back when you get a break, I want to discuss this in real time. Stay safe, you guys, I'll cook a really good dinner when you get back."

She tilted her head at his words, trying to figure out who he could possibly be speaking to. Then, of course, she realized that he was talking to the other members of the Avengers, as he had said that they were the only ones in the Tower.

She felt her stomach turn as she thought of the implications of that. Her masters had sent someone to do her reconnaissance for her and had told her next to nothing, but they wouldn't have knowingly sent her in if they knew that her mission would have been futile.

Or maybe they had. Maybe they wanted her to get caught. They wanted her to be caught and tortured, they couldn't care less about her. Or, perhaps, they wanted her to be caught by the entire team and left for dead, that way they would never have to worry about her again.

She felt a strange aching in her chest, but it wasn't like the excruciating pain she felt all around her body, it was concentrated, her heart feeling as though it was being squeezed in a fist so tight she could hardly breathe, and she felt her vision grow blurry, eyes stinging as tears began to flow down her cheeks, her breathing growing ragged as she silently sobbed, her entire body shaking as she curled the blanket tighter around herself, hiding her face in the soft fabric.

"Are you alright?" Bruce asked, standing in front of the glass, pressing a hand against it, trying to catch sight of her face, "Hey."

She raised her head to look at him with watery eyes, and he sighed, his expression shifting into one of sympathy. "What's wrong?"

She wiped at her eyes, trying to find an answer, because she didn't know. She didn't know why she was crying, she never cried, yet there she was, and the only answer she could come up with was that she was sad.

She was never sad.

"They don't need me anymore," she whispered, her throat hoarse, "They didn't want me."

She pulled the blanket tighter around her, and she didn't understand why. She didn't understand why she felt the sudden need to just feel warmth, her entire body cold and aching, and she didn't understand, just curling in tighter with herself, trying to keep the blanket as close as possible.

Bruce watched her for a few moments before asking, "What kind of human interaction have you gotten? What physical connection have you had?"

She shook her head, trying to curl into a ball. "I did not receive any. At times, I am placed in a machine that synthesizes the feeling of human contact."

Bruce, who had maintained his composure the entire time, went slack jawed, staring at her with clear pain in his eyes. His hand closed into a fist and he sighed, his head hanging low. She watched as he raised his head, looking at her with squinted eyes.

"Seriously?" he asked, and she nodded, shivering despite the warmth around her, and he sighed, looking around, "Okay, listen. I was gonna run some tests with you in there, but...would you like to come out?"

She stared at him, shocked. She didn't understand this man. She had been sent to kill him, yet there he was, inviting her to leave her prison, to come out into the open with him, where he was unprotected and vulnerable. All because he pitied her and her situation.

If she was under the effects of the drugs, she would have tricked him, agreed only to kill him. But she didn't want to kill him. She didn't want to do anything but sleep. 

"Yes," she croaked, because she couldn't think of anything else to say, she didn't want to stay in there.

Nodding, Bruce made his way towards one of the many screens. It had taken some time to get used to, but he was a man with more PhD's than wholly necessary so it didn't take him too long, especially with Tony helping him remember and even adjusting the layout to fit both of their needs. Tony was nice like that.

He pressed the controls that overrode the system that kept the glass in effect, having to argue with JARVIS who, after a very heavy, human sigh, relented, complying with Bruce's request; no one liked to call them commands, because JARVIS deserved much more respect than that.

She watched as the glass around her disappeared, small particles disintegrating into the floor and leaving her sitting with her blanket, the chair having also disappeared. She just stared up at him, unsure of whether to stand, and he gave her a pursed lipped smile as he held his hand out for her.

She didn't take it. She simply uncrossed her legs and stood, the blanket still wrapped around herself, and Bruce reached out to steady her, because without her drugs she didn't possess the same level of poise and balance she always had, nearly toppling over.

"Hey, you're okay," Bruce said, reaching out to her like she was a frightened animal when she ripped herself away from him, "Hey...hey, it's okay."

She tried to control her shaking as he motioned towards one of the tables, patting the top of it, and it took her some time to realize that she had to sit, licking her lips as she hopped, nearly falling if not for Bruce reached out and steadied her.

He took a step back, nodding. "I'm a doctor, so I'm going to run some tests, and I need you to know that I'm going to stay entirely professional."

She frowned, tilting her head as she tried to figure out why he was telling her this, and he sighed, nodding in understanding. "This isn't in a professional setting and I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you in any way, I...I don't know what you've been through."

She nodded slowly, watching as he pressed a few more buttons, a machine rising up. It was similar to her casing, only not glass, and she looked towards him, her frown deepening, and he motioned for her to remove her clothes, holding up a gown.

She took it from him, confused as to why he turned around. Whatever the reason, she took off her uniform, putting on the gown and making her way towards the machine. She licked her lips before climbing inside, relaxing into the comfortable backing that she was resting on, startled by how comfortable it was.

She could hardly call it comfortable, she had never felt it before.

She didn't know how long she was lying there, Bruce working around her as the machine softly whirred, the sound filling the room, and she could do nothing but remember all that she had failed to notice.

It nearly drove her mad.

"Okay," Bruce said, just before she began to think about all those she had murdered, "You can come out."

She climbed out, trying not to topple over as he stood in her gown, moving to hop back up onto the table, Bruce steadying her again. She didn't know how to feel about him touching her. It wasn't that she felt as though he could hurt her, but rather she didn't know what it felt like, and she didn't know whether or not she liked it.

Bruce stood in front of the screens, and she watched as his shoulders tensed and his breathing shorted. He took off his glasses and began to rub at his eyes, sighing heavily to himself as he turned to look over at her.

Moving the screen to face her, he pointed towards the colored sections that were most prominent on her sides, but also appeared on various limbs and other parts of her body. He licked his hips, looking more confused than ever.

"I don't understand how you're alive," he said carefully, and she could only stare at him, "Because this...I mean—I'm sorry."

She sighed minutely, unsure of why she had. "I'm dying."

He licked his lips, tapping his fingers against his leg, looking devastated. "Do you...do you know what that means?"

She didn't even shift. "I've killed enough. I should learn what it's like."

º º º

Bruce was more upset than she was. He tried to explain shock to her, but she didn't feel surprised. She didn't feel anything at all. He said that was shock, and maybe he was right, but for now she was just wrapped in a softer blanket, sitting in a comfy chair he rolled into the room.

"What are you doing?" she asked, because he kept running around the room, mumbling to himself and typing, his fingers moving quickly and precisely.

"I'm trying to figure out why the readings are so off. I need to know exactly what we're dealing with if we're going to keep you alive," he said, and that shocked her.

"Why?" she demanded, because she didn't understand. She had been sent to kill him, yet there he was, trying to keep her alive. 

He should just let her die. That was what she would do.

At least, that's what she would have been told to do. She was a monster, it only made sense that she would, but looking at him now—thinking back to all those that she had killed before—she didn't think that she could.

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of ringing.

Bruce whirled around, his lab coat swinging around him, pressing a button and speaking out, "Banner."

"Bruce!" a man's voice called, filling the whole room, "It's Tony. How's the, uh...intruder? How'd she get in, by the way, I want to hire her, because there's no record of her entering the building, it's incredible."

Bruce licked his lips. "That's the thing, Tony. I didn't tell you this earlier, because I didn't want to upset you...but she was sent to kill us."

There was a pregnant pause. Then, "What the hell, Bruce, why didn't you say so, reinforce her cage, get out of there!"

"No, Tony, listen, there's something else, I ran some tests on her and there's something going on, she needs our help—" Bruce tried to reason, typing quickly on the keyboard, but was interrupted by Tony.

"Tests? Forget about the tests, Bruce, she could kill you, you need to call S.H.I.E.L.D., if she's smart enough to get in, regular prison doesn't work, I mean, what the hell, are you okay? Did she touch you, what is she doing now, has she figured a way out?" The man sounded panicked, his breathing labored, and Bruce struggled to be heard.

"Tony, it's okay," he said, using a much calmer voice, "Listen, she's right here, she's harmless, she hasn't tried to hurt me since I let her out—"

"You what?" Tony screamed, "Bruce!"

"You can't change my mind, Tony, she needs our help, I'll explain when you get home, just focus on the mission, I'll be fine, I promise. Don't argue with me, I'm older than you," he said, the last part sharper than all the rest.

The sigh was heavy and tired and slightly petulant, the reply a dejected. "Fine. Okay, Mr. Senior Citizen, we'll discuss this when you get back, given you're still alive." Then, right before the call disconnected, the man said a soft, "Please stay safe, Bruce."

She watched as Bruce sighed heavily, taking off his glasses to rub his face with both hands, groaning softly. Catching her gaze, he shrugged towards her, "He panics. I have a feeling he's going to tell the others, so...you know, let's not think about that."

She looked towards where the glass box originally was, figuring that he would stick her back in there until the other Avengers arrived to decide the best way to dispose of her without the public noticing; if they did notice, no one would say anything.

But, instead, he surprised her again. He closed down most of the monitors, stepping towards her and holding out his hand.

"Let's get you clothes and some food, okay?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I love how I work hardest on fics that no one reads like this and Left Behind are the least cared about fics I'm working on, but I don't work on anything else, like wow, am I iconic yet?

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!