Playing With Fire (EDITING)

Shocking Revelations

When I woke up, I felt as if my whole body was on fire. Groaning, I rolled over and ignored the pain and sat up. My head throbbed in defiance. When my vision cleared, I was surprised to find all my things in a heap under my bunk. Still in extreme pain, I laid back down and went back to sleep.

When I woke up again, Barton was in the room. "What time is it?" I asked, voice cracking from lack of drinking substance for too long.

He gestured to a large bottle of water on my bunk near my pillow and waited until I'd had several large gulps before answering, "Almost time for dinner."

I nearly spewed water on the floor, "What?!?!"

He nodded. "You've been sleeping for more than 24 hours. We brought up your things too."

I nodded, remembering the heap from when I'd briefly been awake. "Thanks," my voice was oddly quiet when I spoke. He nodded once, stiffly. "Where is everyone?" I asked, swinging my legs over my bunk and trying to stand.

He turned to face me. "Either heading down to dinner or in their labs, offices, or on deck. Are you up to joining the crew in the Mess for a meal, or do you want to sleep again?"

I stood shakily to answer him, and said, "Give me time to take a shower and I'll be there." He smiled slightly but with a look I'd never seen before in his eyes: confusion, thoughtfulness, and frustration all mixed together. I brushed it off and took my shower, taking as long as I could (in reason) and pulling on fresh clothes. The wick away shirt was probably one of the men's because it was loose and the sleeves hung past my fingertips. I pulled on my jeans from the first day since they were cleanish. I didn't bother pulling back my hair, only tugged on my boots and left the room.

The corridors seemed emptier than usual as I made my way to the Mess room. Romanoff and Hill were sitting with some other important people and Fury. Banner and Stark were sitting and talking in a corner with a blueprint between them and their plates pushed to the side. Thor, Barton, Rogers, and Logan were all sitting at one round table. I took an empty seat with them after getting my food; we ate pretty much in silence.

Only halfway finished, I felt too sick to eat any more, so I pushed my plate away, finished my water, and left. With my arm and hand numb/ on fire/ in-so-much-pain-it-didn't-feel-like-pain, I was unable to hold a utensil, my sword, a pen or pencil, anything that required use of my fingers separate of each other. I couldn't even make a fist to grab my sword.

Somehow, I managed to slide my locket off over my head and removed my earrings as well. Using my teeth and good hand, I wrestled my locket open and set it on my bunk in front of me.

One side had a picture of mom and dad as teens. The other side had a pic of Grandpére with his sword and Dad standing with him in front of a big top circus tent. The picture had been cut down to fit, but I noticed something I'd never seen before. There had been more people in this photo. I could see a hand and partial face to the side. Looked like it'd be someone about dad's age in the photo and they were holding a...was it a stick? I couldn't tell. Maybe a trapeze bar? But it looked too long and thin.

Barton and Rogers came back to the room while I was studying the picture. Rogers yawned hugely and crashed on his bunk, snoring almost immediately. As Barton walked by, his pants' pocket zipper caught the chain of my locket and pulled it off my bunk. When he bent down to pick it back up, he paled.

"What?" I asked, snatching back my locket.

"Where'd you get that photo?" he said sternly, eyes narrowing.

"None of your business," I replied, a little put off by Barton's extreme change in mood.

"Where did you get it? Tell me."