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

I - O N E

IT WAS STILL NIGHT when I woke up. I coughed and heaved each breath, somehow more tired than I was when I fell asleep. I fumbled for the container of water on the nightstand, almost knocking over the nearly full bottle of pills as I fumbled in the darkness of my room. One of the scientists created the medicine a little while ago, they're supposed to help with the side effects of my fried brain and lack of control. Hallucinations. Power surges. Nightmares. The Dead Patches; bits where my powers kill the nerves and blood flow in bruise-like spots on my body, according to SHIELD's brightest and best. The sudden shakiness in my hands randomly throughout the day. Trouble sleeping. Well, more trouble sleeping, seeing as years spent with my dad in the lab all night left me wired to function on little sleep. All of that was supposed to be cured with one little pill.

And when I'm awake, it works. Or, it worked, at first. But now, it's just changed. Now, people I know, people I see every day are there. In the shadows, in my nightmares, following me. Doctors, Fury, Harry, Phil. I know it's not them, they're just figments of my fucked of mind, but it still hurts.

It hurts, because instead of them taunting me or yelling at me, I see them dead and hurt. Crying out for help, laying there with blood seeping into the ground. At first, I tried to help. I begged, I applied pressure, I did everything I could, but it didn't do anything. All I can do is watch them die, step over their bodies, go to sleep with their screams and cries in my ears. It's hard to tell what's real and fake now, especially when I'm alone. When I'm with someone, I know it's fake, because the other person doesn't react. Though that doesn't make it any easier to ignore.

But, right now, I couldn't tell anyone that. Harry would no doubt find out and try to get me pulled from the Initiative. He might even succeed. I know Fury hates bringing me in; in his eyes, I'm still the annoying kid who trailed behind Tony Stark on TV. I'm not, I can't be her anymore, that little kid who thought she had to be perfect or her dad would ditch her, like her mother did.

Now, I'm someone else. It seems like I've been split into two different halves and then mashed back together; part of me feels so, so bad whenever I mess up or don't react the right way to something. But, somehow my instinct has become to attack, to hurt every chance I get. Because, if I hurt them first, they can't hurt me somehow. You can't be heartbroken if you don't have a heart.

__

Surprisingly, as I walk the halls of the Helicarrier, I'm met with no visions, not yet. I hope in vain they won't appear at all. I had stopped taking the pills only a few days after I started, but the change in hallucinations never reverted. Reverted.

I almost smiled to myself, only half sure I was using the multi-syllable word correctly. I had been relearning what I once knew by heart since my arrival at SHIELD, with assistance from too many people. Some things, I caught onto quickly, like I just needed someone to show me it once and then I unlock all this information I once knew about it. We were only at a junior high school level of education apparently, but they claimed that was good.

I was on my way to tutoring before breakfast as the sun probably came up, where I would feel like a idiot for a few hours before stuffing my face with tasteless crap from the health nutritionists. I think they were trying to make me suffer. I mean, add some cinnamon or hazelnut for crap's-

I paused in my walk, cocking my head at the ceiling. "Harls?"

I glanced behind me at a worried-looking Harry. "Am I allergic to something? I feel like I'm allergic to something."

My brother sighed in relief, laughing shakily. "Yeah, peanuts and, uh, cinnamon."

"Did you just uh? Did you forget what I was allergic too?" I faked a gasp, trying to force some pep into my voice and a smile onto my face. I had been trying to be more . . . sociable. "Wow. I-I'm in shock, Harold. Really."

"I didn't forget. I just . . . didn't remember which one of us was allergic to Hazelnut for a second." Harry scratched the back of his neck, walking with me.

I snorted, shaking my head. "That's why I thinking of Hazelnut and Cinnamon. Shit, you remember when you tried Nutella? You're face looked like a giant zit."

"You remember that?" Harry cocked his head at me, "You were, like, seven."

I scratched my hair, realizing only as I said it that I had. Stuff like that happened more than I'd like; I'd rather them just come to me in a dream, all psychic style. Or Star Wars-y, like Leia appearing in a Hologram delivered by-

"I remember you deciding to test what foods we were allergic too by force-feeding me canned tuna-"

"It was called Fancy Feast, I thought-"

"What?" I choked a laugh. "That's- that's cat food, dumbass. Oh, that's even worse."

"I was little-"

I scoffed, wrinkling my nose at the memory. I looked my brother in the eye, feeling nostalgic all of a sudden. "You know, Har, I-"

"Help! Please, help me!" I flinched as the scream pierced my ears. It sounded close. I looked at Harry, but he obviously hadn't heard anything.

"I get it Harley," He rested a hesitant hand on my shoulder. "I love you too, kid."

That's not what I was going to-

As we rounded the corner, I froze.