Elemental {Avengers}

15.Two can play at that game

I sat in my room, my belly full from a long dinner with the Avengers. The aching in my wounds had gotten steadily worse, even when nurses came to replace me bandages. I guess the morphine was working after all. It felt better to have a clear head, though.

Loki had eaten dinner in silence while the Avengers laughed and chatted. He had looked extremely out of place, compared to the group, who smiled and drank like there was no tomorrow. I guess I looked exactly the same. I wasn't fully integrated into the group, and had even less of Steves knowledge on pop culture, history and science. I guess being shut off from the rest of the world for almost two decades needs some getting used to.

I could see why Loki commented on us two being the odd ones out, but I could also see how it would be hazardous if Loki and I became closer. Not only do we both have the tendency to kill people, but also, we have the habit of keeping secrets amongst the Avengers. Which they didn't want at all. Especially not from too extremely volatile beings.

It was a wonder why the Avengers kept me in the tower at all. Was it to keep me close, in case I ran away? Was it to make sure that I wasn't able to communicate to anyone? Was it because if they kept a close eye on me, and treated me as an equal, I would spill HYDRA secrets? Nick Fury certainly didn't seem to be the type of person to let me of the leash so easily. Especially with the knowledge that my kill list had almost reached the roof. I wondered what they wanted from me. 

I didn't mind the Avengers tower, after all, it was laid back and calm, spacious and clean, nothing like the Red Room was. Staying here for a few more days at the least couldn't hurt. Maybe a few weeks. Until I was fit enough to wage revenge. To wage revenge on the very people who forced me to comply, and to sit still as others were hurt. The people who could possibly capture and torture young girls, just to obtain a new weapon. The people, or person who had turned me into a killing machine.

That guilt. That guilt crushed me like before. 

How was I supposed to help people when all I had done was kill people? How could I possibly erase what I had done, unkill all the innocents? 

I couldn't. And that was the source of the guilt. My father. The girls. The missions. All my fault. 

All my fault.

A sudden knock came on the door, urgent and quick. After several, I slowly crept over to the wall, an icicle forming in my hand. Who would want me at this time of night? When the banging grew in intensity and strength, threatening to tear the door off of its hinges, I opened it, casual smile plastered on my face. " Hello?"

It was Doctor Miller. Looking slightly fantic and dirty, his stubble showing like it had grown overnight. He brought a cart with him, filled with hospital equipment. When I raised an eyebrow in question, he wiped his face clean of emotion, starting over with a friendly smile. " Sorry to interrupt you this late, Maeve, but this it the only time I was free-"

I stepped out of the way of the door, carefully placing the icicle on the plush armchair, hiding it behind a pillow. He rustled through the cart pulling out various equipment that seemed familiar. " Just a routine blood test, to make sure that you are healing just fine"

I was staring at his cart and looked up, into his eyes. Right there. A flicker of blue, like a light crossed over them, even brighter in the dark room. I tried to hide my wariness, but it showed. "20-hour shifts.  Kind of make you look like the walking dead" he chuckled. 

I half smiled. I was sure that I had seen something in his eyes, this time. The last time, when I had just woken up in the hospital bed, I dismissed it, but now...