I woke up feeling dazed and disorientated. The effects of whatever the hell kind of gas knocked us out was steadily wearing off, and I shook my head in an attempt to accelerate the regression.

Blinking a few times, I willed my eyes to adjust to the unforgivingly bright light shining in from the outside of the space I'd been tossed into. A quick survey of my surroundings told me that there was only one way in or out, and that way was currently being blocked by a Hydra agent.

The location of where he was standing caused the aforementioned bright light to cast a shadow over his face, sheltering his identity from my eyes. I groaned softly as I used the wall to push myself up; my muscles tensed in protest, which meant that they must've manhandled me a shit ton during the journey from the hotel to here, those fuckers.

I placed one hand against the cool wall as I took a moment to gather myself. My free hand instinctually patted around my abdominal area in search of one of my weapons or comm systems but came up empty. There was no question that they'd thoroughly stripped me of all S.H.I.E.L.D tech after I'd been knocked out but like I said, it was a visceral thing to check anyway.

Shutting my eyes, I tried to recall the moments before I blacked out.

*

"Oh, come on!" I groaned, accentuating every word as my desperation built up, "I was fucking protecting you!"

"Well maybe I don't need you to protect me!" she yelled back, "Did you ever think about that?"

I saw it before she did – the cylinder rolling across the carpet and stopping right next to her pump-clad feet. There was a sickening hiss emanating from the object, and I immediately started forward to try and get it away from her.

"(Y/N)!" I called out to her, frantically waving my hands to try and get her to move.

I was too late – that was evident by the way her eyes were starting to sag – and the only thing I could do was outstretch my arms to catch her as she fell.

The gas hadn't affected me yet, so I hurriedly glanced around the room. Ross was knocked out, body half-draped over the sofa behind me, and I could see a few unrecognizable figures on the surrounding rooftops outside – Hydra. My eyes darted to the clock on the wall in front of me and I noted the time: 22:30.

I could feel the poison slipping into my system and I pressed one finger to the distress button attached to my belt. S.H.I.E.L.D might not be here to help us right this second, but at least now they'd know that they'd have to come and find us.

Looking down at (Y/N), I grazed my fingertips over her face. "I won't let them get you," I murmured, words starting to slur as my body succumbed to the gaseous toxin, "Don't worry, bab-"

*

That was all I could remember. I reopened my eyes and barely stifled a growl. I'd be willing to bet everything that Ross had orchestrated the entire thing. Let these terrorist douchebags in on the fact that she was at the hotel and planned her capture. That's probably why he wasn't in this cell with me right now. Bastard's a collaborator.

But nobody puts her in danger and gets away with it. No sir. Not as long as I'm still kickin'. I would find him and, so help me god, I would end him.

After I find her and make sure she's back safe.

My growls from earlier alerted the guard to my resurface from dreamland, prompting him to toss a bottle of water through the bars of the cell. It landed at my feet with a crack, and it was only then that I realised my throat was painfully dry. I made no motion to pick up the offering, though. No way in hell was I getting drugged twice in one night.

Ignoring the beverage, I asked him a question. "What time is it?"

The longer I was apart from her, the more the likelihood of them having their way with her grew. I needed some sort of timeframe to work with.

There was silence for a couple of seconds before his calm voice flooded the sparsely occupied space. My blood ran cold at the sound.

"What does it matter? Your time's up, anyway. It's over."

Spencer.

Of fucking course they would assign him to me. Of course. Dangle my compromised friend right in front of my face, why don't you. Fucking assholes. When I get my hands on them-

Focus, Urie. Both the metaphorical and literal clocks are ticking.

"Humor me," was my response. Another bout of silence was his reply, followed by him stepping forward – allowing me to see his face – and folding his arms. A knot formed in my stomach; I hadn't seen or spoken to him in months.

He looked the same. Sounded the same.

He wasn't the same, though.

But I didn't give up hope that I would save him, too.

Unfortunately, his safety took a backseat to hers – he wasn't literally fighting for his life – and so I progressed.

"What, are you scared that I'm gonna use the knowledge of what time it is and turn it into a magical weapon that breaks me outta here?" I scoffed, cocking one brow, "I'm good, but that's a bit beyond my capabilities at this point."

His facial muscles twitched as he stared at me. Then, "01:25."

"Thank you."

Shit. 01:25. That's not good. Not good at all. Three hours since I'd last seen her alive. Three hours, in which they could've poked, prodded and tortured her all they liked. Fuck.

I wasn't giving up, but I felt the hope I was so desperately holding onto slowly start to diminish, bit by bit, until all I could do was slump forwards against the cold metal bars.

I don't know how long I stayed like that, but it was long enough for me to come up with fifteen escape plans, all of which were not at all going to work. Resigning myself to the fact that overworking my brain would do more harm than good, I sighed heavily and closed my eyes for a moment.

When I opened them again, I saw Spencer leaning against the wall right across from me, and that's when it clicked.

"Spence, buddy, I know you're in there somewhere," I started, raising my head from my slouched body to look at the man I called my best friend, "C'mon man."

He gave a snort. "You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that, Urie."

"I know you can fight it, so please just try. We can't let them win."

"Why should I fight it? So I can help you get out of that cell and rescue your precious little girlfriend?" he scoffed, light hitting his black eyes, "No, I don't think so. Hell, they're probably halfway into cutting her up right now."

My entire body tensed up at his words, and the muscles in my jaw flexed involuntarily as I tried to restrain himself from lashing out; seeing the weapon attached to Spencer's hip – and remembering that I was totally unarmed – I recognised that doing so wouldn't end well for me.

His words had more of an effect on me then I'd care to admit, however. And for a second there, I swear it made me borderline homicidal. If she's dead, I will kill every last person in this building.

"Face it, Brendon," Spencer sighed, pushing himself off of the wall and walking forward until he was within my reach, "You lost. We won."

"We?" I spoke softly, holding intense eye contact, "The only 'we' that you're a part of is S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Not anymore. This is where I belong now."

I dared a laugh at that statement. He couldn't be serious. Fuck, how deep-rooted was this mind control? Spencer is one of the strongest people I know. His mind is a motherfucking fortress. And you're telling me that they managed to break it down? No. I don't buy that shit for one second. He was there, and I was going to find him.

"Tell me you don't actually believe that they care about what happens to you. Spence, you're just a temporary resource to them. You're expendable. The moment they get what they want, they'll kick you to the gutter. Probably kill you."

A splinter of trepidation flashed across Spencer's dark eyes, clear enough for me to notice. There we go. I hit a nerve – I was getting through to him. I just had to keep on pressing.

I pushed my head as far forward as the bars would allow me to and furrowed my brows. My hands slipped down the bars to hip-level. "Spencer, you know that none of what they're doing is right. You know. They're planning on taking over the world, and killing millions in the process. The very same world that we swore to protect. Now I don't care how severe the brain-washing they used on you is; I know that no amount of it would ever be enough to take the good outta you."

It might've just been wishful thinking, but I swear I saw Spencer's eyes soften and his jaw slacken as he slowly started to give in.

But of course, nothing in life is that easy, and the moment his new colleagues' voices sounded through the comm in his ear, Spencer snapped back into Hydra-mode instantaneously.

Spencer listened intently for a moment, before retracting his weapon with a snarl, tossing me a filthy look and rushing off out of the holding area to help aid in the newfound problem.

The voice had been barely audible to my ears, but luckily, I was able to make out certain phrases – specifically, the most important ones – and I knew that if I wanted her to make it out of here in one piece, I would have to get out of that cell fast.

Flicking my fingers upwards, I exposed Spencer's ID badge I'd pinched off of him just now.

Fortunately, escaping wouldn't be much of a problem now.

~

Part of what I'd overheard from Spencer's comm was that she had taken down the guards that were escorting her and was now running untraceable.

Atta girl.

Even though I knew that she was out free, the raging thumping of my heartbeat persisted, continuously elevating my anxiety. I'd only loosen up once I could physically make sure she was okay.

Since this was a Hydra centre, I had no sense of where I was headed, and so I was reduced to running in between corridors aimlessly, hoping I would run into her somewhere.

Then I heard a cry, and my sixth sense kicked in. Drawing the weapon I'd swiped from one of the guards I ambushed, I let my feet carry me without even thinking about it.

Not a moment too soon, I rounded the final corner separating me and her, only to see Spencer pinning her down with one hand hovering just above her neck.

Fuck fuck fuck shit fuck fuck fuck.

"Spencer," I commanded, training the gun on him, "back off."

He slowly turned his head to look at me and the aggravation on his face was clear.

"I'm not gonna ask you again," I spoke, taking a tentative step forward.

C'mon, Spence. Just stand down. Please. Don't make me do this.

A small smile formed on Spencer's face. "You gonna shoot me, Bren? Really? Me?"

As soon as those words left his mouth, I was treated to an unwelcome, spectacularly detailed montage of the course of our camaraderie, courtesy of my traitorous mind.

Spencer has been with me through everything. Everything. He's seen me at my worst – when I was the lowest I'd ever been – and he still stayed. He's my brother, my best friend, the person I trust inexplicably.

And he was also currently the person a simple movement away from destroying (Y/N)'s life.

But was I really going to do it? Shoot him? There was no other way of stopping him; if I made any indication of lunging forward to tackle him, that needle would be in her neck before I even took my second step.

I couldn't do this. Fuck, I couldn't. This is Spencer. I couldn't shoot Spencer. Could I?

Then my gaze flickered to her, eyes droopy with discomfort, and something in me switched.

For her? Absolutely.

"Spencer," I warned again, allowing him one last opportunity to just. Walk. Away. "Back. Off."

Evidently, he believed that I was bluffing, and so proceeded to bring the needle down to her neck.

I don't even remember pulling the trigger, or hearing the gunshot as it echoed throughout the corridor. I don't think I even saw his body fall, or catch a glimpse of the S.H.I.E.L.D agents that flooded in a moment later. I didn't see her shakily push herself up, or hear her voice as she called out to me.

I don't even know where on his body I aimed for.

All I remember was sliding down the wall until my unsteady body hit the ground, holding my head in my hands, and pushing back tears.

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Thank you for reading x