HADES // T. STARK DAUGHTER // MARVEL I.I

III - T H R E E

WHEN I WOKE UP, everything was so cold. My hand rested on something- something cold. I jerked up, eyes opening wide. I wasn't in my bed, I was in my brother's. And, next to me, was Harry. A big purple-grey patch on his bare arm, going from shoulder to elbow almost. I threw myself backwards off the bed, landing loudly. A silent shout left me as I stared at what I had done, tears springing to my eyes.

I killed him, I worried. My hands shook, so I clenched them tightly to my chest, shaking my head. "H-Harry?"

For a moment, nothing happened. My vision turned blurry, and I scrambled to my feet. I didn't know what to do. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him.

Before I knew it, I was running barefoot through the halls, the cold cement numbing my feet. I barely noticed the cracks I was making as I bolted, heart pounding in my ears. My body slammed against the ladder as I neared it, pushing myself up onto the roof. As I climbed out, I could barely breath, hands clutching the railing tightly as I sat. Nobody was outside, and the sun had yet to rise. I was alone with my mistake.

I stared at my hands. Hands that killed. Even now, the metal rusted under my grip, my abilities killing it. I killed everything I touched.

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It took me a long time to realize I wasn't in my gear. After the shock of what- of what I had done lessened, I realized I was barefoot for the first time in a long time, only a long sleeved shirt and my pants on. Harry must have taken off my gloves, coat, and boots last night. He took them off me. And I just let him.

I sat out there for hours, past sunrise and morning. It was almost noon when they found me. Gripping onto a rusted railing, shaking and staring at my hands. My hands. My hands that killed. I told myself I did what I had to, at HYDRA. I killed them because I wasn't in control, and because I had to. They were the bad guys, I had no other choice.

But, Harry wasn't a bad guy. He was my brother. And I killed him.

It took nearly half a dozen agents to get me to the Infirmary after they discovered me. All of them wore protective gear, but I thrashed and fought the whole way. Down the ladder, through the halls. It was only when we passed the glass-walled lab holding my father and Doctor Banner- it was only then that I gave in, letting them drag me.

I wondered what punishment they'd give- that I definitely deserved -for what I had done. The visions didn't need to appear, because I couldn't get the image of my dead brother out of my head. They whispered and screamed at me, how I was a murderer, a psychopath, absolutely insane. I flinched when the group dragged me into the brightly lit infirmary, falling on the bed.

They restrained me, despite my lack of further resistance, and pumped me full of whatever they thought would calm me down somehow. But how could I calm down, knowing what I know? Having done what I did?

"Harley?"

I jerked my head up, seeing him next to Ward in the doorway.

"No, no, no, no." I pleaded, shaking my head. "Not him, don't make me see him."

The visions my head made surely were playing a trick on me. Because, there was Harry, completely fine, next to his best friend. I flinched back as he neared me, reaching to touch my head.

"Harley," He whispered, brown eyes staring deeply at me. I shook my head, face twisting in pain.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop-"

"Harley, it's me. It's Harry." He insisted, touching my cheek while wearing a glove. "It's me. It's me."

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It took over an hour for Harry to convince me what I thought I had done wasn't real. It was one of my hallucinations, I just hadn't realized it. I wish I could say that was the first time something like that had happened, but it wasn't. I tried to play off the visions as nothing, like it wasn't a big deal. But, it was. Seeing people I know- people I might even love -hurt or dying, and having to just walk past them as them screamed and begged. It killed me.

The doctors decided to keep me in the Infirmary for the night, and Fury had stopped by once I had calmed down enough. Only to tell me I was off the Initiative and any future missions until they could 'come up with a solution' for what was going on with me. I saw the look in his eyes; he thought it was a mistake to put me in a situation as likely to . . . stir up emotions, such as this one.

He didn't seem to understand. This would've happened no matter what I was doing. It couldn't be avoided, and it probably couldn't be fixed. I was stuck as a crazed teenager with super-powers gifted by Neo-Nazi monsters. And now, I was a monster too.

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- _ 3rd POV _ -

Tony Stark sat across from the Director of SHIELD, a stern look on his usually-amused face. "What did you do to her?"

"You have to understand, we aren't responsible for the mutation-"

"What the hell are you talking about? What- is this X-Men or something?"

"Your daughter was kidnapped on Halloween a year and a half ago." Fury stated, pushing a thin file towards him. "We recovered her in Russia a few months ago. Since then, we have been trying to help her readjust before returning to society, if that's what she wants."

Tony flicked through the file, slightly disturbed by the knowledge SHIELD had about his daughter. From allergies to the last cold she had, they had nearly everything. "Your saying someone mutated Harley?"

"Yes. We don't know exactly what combination of chemicals and other components were used, because most of it is already absorbed into her genetics. We do know it caused abilities to manifest."

"Like what? And what does that have to do with the hazmat-looking group dragging her through the halls earlier?" He demanded, shaking his head.

"She can kill things, to put it simply." Fury leaned forward, folding his hands. "She doesn't mean too most of the time, but she kills whatever she touches, without extreme care and layers. Rusts metal, makes food mold, can create patches on people- and herself -where the nerve endings die or somehow . . . stop for weeks to months at a time."

Tony shook his head. "She can't control it? At all?"

"Sometimes. We've noticed it's mostly based off her emotions. She needs to stay calm."

"Why was she screaming and crying earlier?" Stark demanded, tense.

Fury sighed, grabbing a picture from the back of the file. It was of a young man, in his twenties probably, with dark hair and a stern face. He stood next to a equally stone-faced man, both in SHIELD gear.

"She hallucinates. Sees people dying in front of her, from what we know. We've tried medication, meditation- nothing works long term." Fury pointed to one of the men in the picture. "This is Agent Harry Wilx. Earlier, she thought she had killed him."

"Wilx?"

"She didn't ever tell you?" Fury questioned, leaning back.

"Tell me what?"

"Agent Wilx is Harley's half-brother. He joined SHIELD when she was eight."

The Stark man stared at the boy in the photo, noticing the similar nose and dimples. They looked alike. "A brother."