Agent X (Five Hargreeves x Reader)

33

A/N: italics in this chapter are not what you hear from the ear piece, instead it's your thought track

SLAM!

The door closed. The large chunk of metal had once again closed (Y/N) off from the rest of the world. When she heard the sound, she didn't even flinch. All that she did was sit on the floor, her back was against the wall, her arms were limp beside her. Her chest moved up and down slowly, movement was barely visible.

(Y/N)'s eyes were glazed over. Her mind was blank. The pain that she had just endured seemed to stopped all movement in her brain. Everything in her mind was frozen. She couldn't see any words or numbers or scenes... everything was blurred out lines of black ink on black card. Nothing could fix this.

Her body hurt. That was a given. She was merely 13. She was not ready for anything like that, and the fact that she had encountered it against her own will made it worse. Much worse.

As she sat there, doing nothing... simply existing, one word came into her mind but she couldn't remember why. The pain radiating from the core of her very being was too overwhelming to even remember anything. As a result of this, all she did was pay little attention to it and keep staring at the chair in front of her, a small puddle of blood was seen at the bottom of her vision. She did her best not to pay attention to that as it only allowed one scene to play in her head. Looking at the puddle would be like pressing play, willingly, on your worst nightmare.

Time was passing. But (Y/N) was not aware of this. Some may argue that it was because time was a construct and that it was relative. However, the truth was that she simply couldn't comprehend it.

About and hour and a half had passed and (Y/N) still hadn't moved. But then she heard the door open. She flinched slightly and moved her line of vision over to the door.

There stood a woman in a white coat with a clip board. (Y/N)'s eyes scanned over the figure.

Female, aged 32, 5'6"... short brown hair, glasses, green eyes, mild obsession for a man in the 21st century who's apart of a band called... Panic! At The Disco? What the fuck kind of a name is that? Anyway, name... name... why don't I know her name? I know the face. I know that she is new to the commission. But why don't I know her name? S... Sarah? ...No...Stephanie? ...No...Sophia? ...No...Soph-

"Hello, my name is Doctor Sophie Thomas." The woman said in a clean British accent

SOPHIE... fucking damnit... what is wrong with me?

"I'm here t-"
"To fix me?" (Y/N) cut her off.
"Uuuh... what?" She scrunched her eyebrows together and carefully closed the door, preventing any loud noises.
"Do you really think you're the first doctor who has come in here to 'fix' me?" She stood up and walked over to the chair, side stepping the red pool on the floor. As she said the word fix she did air quotes with her fingers.
"I don't understand... what do you mean by 'fix'?" Dr. Thomas asked, repeating the same action as (Y/N) had previously done. She took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

"Then let me walk you through it..." she looked directly into Dr. Thomas' eyes with a slight glare that was on the brink of becoming demonic.

"The commission has had me held in this same room for 13 years, other than the past few days but that was no picnic either-" she gulped for a moment and blinked "-but nevertheless, I've been in the same room my entire life. Everyday someone walks through that door... usually it's that asshole Derek, sometimes it was someone else... someone who knew me well... knew what they were doing. Everyday was a new kind of torture... even if they were sorry for it. And then after that... maintenance walks in. I'm sat here, shivering... twitching... crying... I'm wishing for my own death but you and all of your predecessors walk through that door without a care in the world. Everyone before you knew exactly what was happening to me, only they were too afraid to do anything, so all that they did was 'fix' me and then leave, asking to never again walk through that door. And that now brings us to you. The blank canvas."

Sophie sat there in silence. She, herself, was at a loss for words.

"B-blank canvas?"
"You're the first person in years that doesn't know what's really going on here."
"What's really going on here? X, I don't know what you're talking about, I was told-"
"I know what you were told Dr. Thomas. You were told that you were apart of a great research team, working on different methods of helping traumatised children. You were told that you were a vital role in helping me work out my 'issues' and that you were the only one to be able to do it. They lied. Yeah, you're a great doctor... but you can't fix me. I'm stuck here in a life of pain, you're just here to make me feel safe. Well, guess what... that's never going to work again."

I guess my mind is back in business... unfortunately.

"Excuse me, if I may, why won't it ever work again?" Sophie now held a face which painted the perfect portrait of concern. (Y/N) didn't respond. She simply closed her eyes and tilted her head downwards. For some reason, she was the one who felt ashamed. She was ashamed of something that she had no control over. She couldn't have stopped it if she wanted to.

(Y/N) was too busy thinking about how she couldn't look at the doctor to even pay attention to the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"What happened to you, X?" Sophie reached out and touched (Y/N)'s hand.

(Y/N) merely let out a breath. She couldn't bring herself to say anything. As a result of this, Dr. Thomas sighed, but then she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. It was bright red and on the floor behind (Y/N). She leaned to the side and saw the blood that was on the floor, there wasn't much but it was still there. She then looked to (Y/N)'s wrists, the girl had been fiddling with her sleeves since she had asked why she wouldn't feel safe. While looking at her wrists, she noticed bruises in the shape of fingerprints.

"Who?" Dr. Thomas asked a simple one-worded question. No harm done right?

So much fucking harm done.

(Y/N) looked at her, a colour shift took place in her eyes, making them look darker than before. Her nostrils were flared and her hands were in fists so tight that a notable amount of blood was seeping through her fingers.

"Derek."

A/N: Hey, Derek? Ye- yeah, it's me... Hill? Yeah you may wanna start running.