Log: Sharon C/Gwen S
[It had all happened so fast - one minute she had been preparing Steve to head back out into the chaos, and the next she had been the chaos. There were times she knew where she was, a quarantined room at Stark Tower; and she knew why, she was carrying the infection around. There were other moments that she was back to being held captive in the Hydra medical facility. An experiment in mind control, having killed Captain America and keeping her alive solely for the off chance there was a super soldier growing inside of her.
Sharon held onto the lucid moments, and in the back of her mind she kept reminding herself the reality and the fiction weren't interchangeable. She hadn't invented the doors and the hotel, and Steve in her mind. Dr. Faustus and the Red Skull hadn't built it for her like some sadistic sandbox while they continued their work.
The room itself wasn't uncomfortable - it was Stark Tower after all. Medical equipment, cleverly covered up given her current phobias and levels of fear. But she was still up and around. She felt a bit ill, and she was running a fever, but she hadn't noticed it much prior to her removal from the quarantine site. A removal she was going to have to explain to SHIELD once she was well. And she had to get well. The back of her mind nagged that she might have infected Steve, and she was terrified.
Changed out of her messy suit and into sweat pants that were rolled at the waist to fit, and one of Steve's way too large tee shirts left from before he'd come to stay with her, she was curled in a corner, knees against her chest reciting her name and badge number over and over again, to keep something real in her mind. Something tangible. She wasn't being interrogated or tortured, but it was a lesson that worked for many situations. Sharon Carter 8675309
When the door opened and Gwen Stacy came in, she lurched back, hitting her head on the wall of the corner she was tucked into. A voice telling her she'd been invited. She'd invited her. She was here for a reason. She looked at her hands, unclenching her fingers from each other and saw dried blood on them. Steve's blood. She'd killed Steve. Again. She waited for the voice in her mind that never came - the one that told her how to behave. It never came She closed her eyes and looked up at Gwen]
Is Steve dead?
[A question that hung in the air, but would put her back where she knew she needed to be. Either there, or here - the reality was the answer to that question.]