Sharonnarrative! Who: Sharon Carter and some not cool people Where: The Hydra Death Star What: She's freaking out man When: When she sees this Warnings: Brain mess uppery, lots of confusion, lots of brain fuckery, etc. Sharon's having a p bad day.
Sharon was a fighter, and she fought every step of the day, every minute, every second, every thing that happened to her that she was aware of she fought. She fought tooth and nail, and took the terms literally, every part of her body was a weapon to be used against the people who were currently holding her against her will. And for the most part they let her fight, especially at the beginning did they let her fight. A few times they let her get as far as the highway and into a car that she knew was driving her to safety until it pulled right back into the facility's fence. More than once they sacrificed a weapon, a life, two lives, three. They gave her the illusion of control, of freedom, only to remind her that she had none of that in the end. She kicked, she screamed, she cried, she took what they dished out, she spat in their faces. She was quiet when they wanted her to scream, she refused when they wanted compliance, she laughed in their faces when they wanted to make her cry.
In short, she did everything they expected her to. They had her number. It wasn't what she did while she was awake, it was what she told them while she was asleep. It was always the things they got her to whisper, the things they knew from her life before. Files of things from enemies past. They knew it all. Every bit of it. All she had to do was lie there, unknowing, she'd wake up as feisty as she was when she'd gone under only knowing that a day had past. They'd have all they needed from her. The experiments done, and the rest just to break her eventually. They could make her do anything, she just didn't know it yet. Everything she did was because they said she could. The days she woke up and thought she was home because they'd changed her room around again, or the days she woke up and thought she was just back in the dank smoke of Stark Tower starting over, making her relive it to try and make a new decision. Choose a new adventure.
Injuries she got, healed over night, or maybe it had been weeks. Months. Years. She didn't know. She didn't know what they were getting from her, or what they wanted. She'd forgotten how long she'd been there, she kept remembering the 4th of July, but the 4th of July paper showed up more than once. Hadn't it? She didn't know.
She pulled out her journal when she remembered, trying to gauge, but the days didn't seem right to her. Every now and then someone reached out. First Max, then Aunt Peggy. But Aunt Peggy was dead. So that wasn't right so it must have been at home when that happened. Steve maybe, but Steve was dead too. Or he wasn't, it was a different kind of Steve. The right Steve. Maybe. Max then and Ella, they had to stop or Hydra would wonder who they were. She almost reached back out to remind them, but didn't want to clue anyone in, and she wasn't sure if it was some kind of trap anyway. Because wasn't everything?
And then unknown. Gwen. Unknown. And Gwen. Gwen. Unknown. Gwen. Unknown.
She knew what that felt like. What that meant. Who that was. They were doing it again. They were trying to get to her. She got angry. Gwen was young. Not a child, a young woman, but still young and they were flaunting the death of a young woman in her face. A friend. Someone she'd loved and cared for. Unknown. Gwen. Unknown. She wasn't unknown. She wasn't. Neither of them were unknown. They mattered. At least to each other they mattered. And maybe because they were both dead at some point in their lives. Gwen. Unknown. Sharon. Unknown. Steve. Unknown. Peggy. Unknown. No one knew.
They had her journal. They were messing with everyone. She was in the room that looked like the hospital room this time. It had changed from her room at the SHIELD academy since yesterday. She was healing from an injury, she didn't know what because it didn't hurt anymore. And as she stared at her journal. Sharon. Unknown. Gwen Unknown. Ms. Carter? Ms. Carter? Sharon. Unknown. She screamed loudly and threw the book across the room so hard it crumbled drywall. What?
She sat upright in her bed and ripped out an IV ignoring the blood that only spurted for a second. And looked around getting dizzy. Her feet hit the floor heavy, feeling like anvils. What? Sharon. Unknown. Gwen. Unknown. "SHE'S NOT UNKNOWN. YOU KILLED HER." She screamed at the top of her lungs. She screamed loudly. She ran toward the door and before she could open it it flew open in front of her. White coats and the squeak of shoes on shiny floor tried to subdue her and she fought. Teeth. Nails. She kicked. She screamed. This outburst was not on the schedule.
She heard. From miles and miles and miles and miles and miles away the sounds of foot steps calmly walking down the hall. And the subtle gently intonation of a subtle gentle comforting and terrifying familiar voice that eased her pain and drilled a hole in her stomach all at once. No. "Sharon." He said and she didn't have to see him, she didn't want to, didn't care to. Hated how it made her knees buckle and her spine fold in on itself. She felt weak and her eyes heavy. Terrified. She knew then that there was no way out. That voice. She'd thought, wished, hoped, she'd dreamed it all those weeks ago. It had been weeks hadn't it? It was real. She'd lost the fight before it had even begun.
When she saw the shoes make their way into her room where she was being held down by five other people, and the sickening sympathetic tuts of that voice, telling the people in their white coats to back off, and let her go, he scooped her up, limp as she was and she stared at him fear behind her eyes, and that voice that he controlled the world with, that he controlled her with, seeped in through her pores and into her mind and her eyes filled with tears. "Sharon, what happened?" he asked her as he carried her over to her bed and laid her down, covering her up and she curled into herself. She didn't remember a thing, not seeing him since that first day here, but she knew - she knew he'd been here all along. And she knew that she wasn't going to escape. Or be rescued. But one day. One day they just might let her out with this man in her head and she hoped then and there that whatever it was they were putting in her body killed her before that happened.