Waking up has never been more painful. My surroundings confuse me, and I appear to be on a hospital bed surrounded by people who either fail to notice or fail to care. This must be a medical ward, and it's no wonder why I would be here. My left leg is sore, and my forearm feels like it's on fire. Damp air fills the dark, stone room, and busy chatter combined with confusion is enough to give me a pounding headache.

"She's up, Sung-ki," a seemingly disembodied voice informs. I recognize the name Sung-ki, at least.

"I'll brief her," Jo volunteers. "Go get Barton."

Jo's companion offers a casual "Yes, ma'am," and leaves.

I try to sit up, only to find that, given the pain, it isn't really an endeavor I care to pursue at this time. "I hurt everywhere," I announce.

"Could've been worse," Jo points out. "Well, it could have been worse for me. The bullet lodged in your arm, but if it had gone through, it would've caught my neck."

I stare at her. "So what you're trying to tell me is that there's lead in my arm."

"We got it out," she promises. "And we patched you up, but you have other injuries. Your leg was pulled out of joint, so we put it back in. Besides that, you've got three broken ribs. Those shouldn't take too long to heal."

I close my eyes and try to take a deep breath. It smarts. "Yikes."

"I'm actually impressed that you made it all the way here in your condition," she actually compliments. "I could've accidentally killed you several times. The car ride could've jolted your ribs out of place enough to puncture your lung."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Are you trying to make me feel better?"

Jo rolls her eyes. "I'm trying. Your arm saved my life. I'm trying to make it up to you."

"Well, my arm thanks you for your respect, but I would rather not hear about the times I almost died pointlessly. You are not helping my anxiety issues."

"Sorry," she apologizes. "Once Barton gets here, we're going to figure out your future. Loki hasn't returned."

I find myself relieved at the fact. I've figured it out. Johnson is the epitome of the stereotypical agent around Loki because if he steps one toe out of line, he gets a spear up his rib cage. All of that had been washed from my mind until recently. I am less than pleased that fate has placed me in the custody of an egotistical maniac. I wouldn't call what he did to me anything less than kidnapping. 

Now, I have to get home, and not a home where Loki can find me again. I need to go West and South, to my family. I call them every day. They'll be worried sick when they don't hear from me. If this Barton character determines that my future isn't one where I leave this place and go home, I'm willing to fight my way out, broken ribs and all.

"Abigail?" I hear an unfamiliar voice behind me speak.

I make my slow and painful ascent to a sitting position to face the newcomer. Is it even a surprise to me that I'm greeted by ice-blue eyes that mark brainwash? It seems that nearly everyone shares the trait. "I'm Abby," I announce. "You must be Barton."

"Call me Clint," he instructs. "Loki's told us about you."

"Did he mention that he kidnapped me?" I question. "That's a detail that I missed up until recently."

Clint stares me in the eyes. "You lost the truth of the Tesseract..." he observes.

"I lost the what of the who?"

Clint shakes his head. "Look, I'm sorry. I really am. Maybe when Loki comes back, he'll give it to you again."

"You can't know for sure that Loki will come back, Barton," Jo interrupts.

"Since when are you such a pessimist, Jo?" Clint questions.

"Johnson would've contacted us by now," she insists. "Look, Loki didn't tell us what his plans were for her. We have to focus on finding him, not pampering a civilian. She's dead weight. No offense."

I shrug. "I actually completely agree."

"My orders are to keep her safe," Jo continues. "If I have to move her back to New York to obey them, that's what I'm going to do."

Clint sighs. "I'm gonna tell you to do what you think is best, Jo. I trust your judgment. But I don't think Loki's gonna be tickled pink when he hears you sent her back."

Jo helps me up. "I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

This was a lot easier than I thought it would be. At last, some convenience has come my way. Finding I can walk again, Jo and I walk out of the medical into what I assume is something of a main systems room.

"Ward," Jo addresses a dark-haired man at a computer. "Book a one-way to JFK International."

I interrupt. "Make that George Bush Intercontinental. I have family in Texas that I need to get back to."

"I can't do either," Ward informs Jo. "You're not in charge anymore."

Jo raises her eyebrows. "And who exactly made that call?"

Ward inclines his head to the front of the room. "See for yourself, Sung-ki."

We both follow Ward's gaze to the front of the room where two familiar figures are hobbling, having to support each other just to stay upright. Johnson and Loki are a peculiar pair. I'm thrilled to hear that one of them is safe, but as far as the Asgardian goes... not so much. Half the room flocks to them, hardly giving them breathing space and assaulting them with ten questions at a time each. A medic cuts his way through the crowd and drags them both back to the infirmary.

Jo and I still stand side-by-side. I look over to her to find that she looks how I feel: disappointed. "We'll have to hold off on that flight to Texas, Brandon," she semi-apologizes and spins on her heel to walk in the same direction they took Johnson and Loki.

So, the getting back home business is going to be harder than I originally thought. "Couldn't you just have booked the flights, Ward?" I snap. I then mutter a mean name in his direction and follow Jo.

In the infirmary, Jo stands behind Clint as the latter informs Loki how glad he is to have his commander back and all that mindless crony nonsense. The maniac's injuries seem to be few and noncritical, unfortunately. The doctor on hand seems to be paying more attention to Johnson who's sitting on the same bed I was on just a minute ago and looks as though he bathed in Egyptian water during the first plague. They have him hooked up to machines that are pumping blood into him.

"What happened?" I ask, genuinely concerned.

"I got hurt," Johnson replies through a smile and a cringe.

"Aside from the obvious?" I specify.

The doctor answers for him. "Johnson here got himself shot in the hand, the wrist, and twice in the leg. He's lost a lot of blood."

"You should see the other guys," Johnson promises. "I'm fine."

"For someone who's fine, you're clearly very not fine," I insist. There's a double meaning there. I turn my attention to the doctor. "Is there anything I can do? I'm not one to shy away from blood."

The doctor mulls it over for a second. "There are gauze pads and bandages on that table over there. If you could just wrap up his hand and wrist nice and tight after you clean the area, that would be helpful."

"Sure," I agree, gathering supplies from the indicated table. I sit next to Johnson and hold out my hand. Johnson places his hand in mine and I get a good look at his wounds. They're pretty nasty, admittedly. "You must have a high tolerance for pain," I observe. "I would be blubbering like a baby..."

Johnson smiles, looking down at his hand. "You get used to the pain after a while. What about you? You seem to have made it out of the ordeal alright."

"Don't be condescending, Johnson," I tease as I begin to clean the blood away. "I got shot, too. I was shot with bullets, needles, and who knows what else... But I owe my survival to Jo, as I imagine Loki owes his survival to you."

Johnson looks over my shoulder where I imagine Loki sits, waving his spear menacingly and threatening to kill if Johnson says that he was anything short of god-like. "It was a team effort," Johnson responds. "Loki is pretty powerful."

I'm silent for a moment. Loki's powerful enough to brainwash people. Maybe Johnson's in on it-- there isn't a hint of blue in his deep, brown eyes. He might very well have known I was being brainwashed and let it happen. But now I have to make a decision: either I'm going to let Johnson be my friend or I'm going to treat him as coldly as I would treat Loki. And you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. "Well, if you say so," I allow. "Frankly, I'm just glad you made it back alive."

"I'm glad you made it, too," Johnson remarks, offering a warm smile.

"Abigail," Loki calls from behind me.

I look over my shoulder. "Don't call me--"

"Abby," he corrects himself before I have a chance to. "When you're quite done, you may follow me to your new quarters."

My "new quarters" as Loki called it is one room that looks like no one save spiders and rats has been inside in fifty years. It is also the size of a large broom closet, and contains a bed. That's it. It doesn't even seem like a comfortable bed. It's more like a cot.

"I've seen prison cells that look better than this," I criticize.

Loki scoffs. "You're telling me that you've seen prison cells?"

I fold my arms over my chest. "Y'know, in pictures and museums and stuff. I mean basically, this is... terrible. Can I get a different one?"

Loki rolls his eyes and shuts me inside. I'll take that as a "no."

Trying the cot, I know immediately that it will be impossible to sleep on in the future. Luckily for present me, I've had a long enough day to not care about lumps and wells. I take advantage of the situation and put in a few hours of sleep.

Waking up in my little cell is like waking up realizing that you've been grounded for an indefinite amount of time for something that wasn't your fault-- only ten times worse. In various daydreams of how I would tour Europe, this wasn't how I imagined Germany. I used to think of it as the Disneyland's Small World caricature-- colorful, with cutesy little cottages, rosy people, and warm sun. Also, I envisioned really good food.

And speaking of food, I am seriously famished. Loki's grand tour did not include the location of the cafeteria, so I have no idea how to get anything to eat. I bet Johnson knows-- or maybe Jo...

I open the door (thank goodness the maniac didn't lock it) and walk back to the main systems room. Jo, Clint, and a third party seem to be in some sort of intense discussion. However, when Jo spots me, she silences the two men. "Can I help you, Abby?" she questions.

The way she looks at people, one would be afraid to really make her mad. Suddenly, I feel small asking about something as simple as... "Food?"

Jo blinks once. "Really?"

I take a step back. "Hey, we're all human, here," I remind her. Once that phrase is out of my mouth, I realize the possibility of it being untrue and wind up feeling stupid.
 
"And just what seems to be this issue, Miss Brandon?" Loki butts into the conversation very rudely.

I turn to face him. "Mr. Mischief, you're better," I observe, my tone indicating that I am less than pleased with that fact.

"A little, yes," he snaps back. "I thank you for your concern."

Over Loki's shoulder, I notice Johnson walking to join the conversation. "Johnson, you're better!" I observe, definitely more pleased with that fact.

"Good enough to walk around, anyway," he clarifies.

I nod. "Well, I'm glad. You're feeling okay, and everything?"

"Enough," Loki almost snaps. "Your mindless pleasantries are grating mercilessly on my sanity. Why are you here?"

I stare a moment. "I ask myself that more and more every second I'm in your presence."

Jo, clearly exasperated by the stationary discussion, interrupts. "Sir, Abby was wondering about dinner."

"If you eat that sort of thing," I add.

Loki rolls his eyes. "Barton, if you would be so kind as to get a wristband for Miss Brandon..." Barton obeys with a 'yes, sir.'

I fold my arms over my chest. "Oh, I need a pass for a basic human right. Gotcha."

"So condescending," Loki scolds. "It isn't a 'pass' as you call it. More of a tracking device, really."

Now, I wish it was a pass. 

Barton returns with the object in question. It's a pretty simple-looking device-- it could pass for a regular piece of silver jewelry. He puts it on my wrist while Loki explains its primary functions. "With this band, we will be able to see your every move," he says.

"Pretty sure that was implied in the words 'tracking device,' genius," I sigh. 

"Then I'm sure I needn't explain that it does have the ability to inflict severe damage," he continues as though he hasn't heard me. "Stepping outside a twelve-kilometer radius, removing the band, or making any transactions with it on will result in your immediate termination."

I grimace. "Lovely," I mutter. "Hey, I've got a question: what is going on? Why..." I shake my wrist in his face. "...this?"

"Johnson, you have my permission to take Miss Brandon to the surface for three hours."

Johnson acknowledges this with a nod and gestures for me to follow him. But I'm not leaving--not yet.

"I don't understand why you're taking such precautions to make sure I don't escape," I inform Loki, my arms crossed.

Loki matches my stance. "I sincerely hope you don't actually expect me to answer your every question."

"No," I admit. "But by you're own admission, I'm not smart. I'll save you the trouble of discovering if I'm athletic-- I'm not, and nobody important cares about me. There is literally nothing good about me. Why not just let me go?"

The corner of Loki's mouth twitches upwards. "At this point, you've seen far too much for me to simply let you go. But rest assured that I did not bring you here without purpose, however unsavory that purpose will be to you."

"Abby, are you coming?" Johnson calls from the door.

Reluctantly, I turn to walk away.

"Oh, and Abby," Loki begins, causing me to turn back to him. "You were wrong by the way. There is something good about you. You have lovely hazel eyes."

I'm not quite sure how to take that. It couldn't have been a genuine compliment, so what was it? Acknowledgment that I'm no longer following him mindlessly? A threat to put me back under his control?

Wordlessly, I once again turn away from him and follow Jared through the door.