Timshel

xi - Pinpoint

warnings: mind control, brainwashing, violence, & angst

***

"Sit down," Nadia demands and you do exactly that. You wonder for a moment how they brought the chair all the way to Venice, but then you remember that she wouldn't want you focusing on this. Instead, you stay still as she binds you to the chair with the leather straps that you can't budge. You focus on the large empty room, it looks like a warehouse, you hear water drip from the ceiling and feel a drop on your shoulder. You don't flinch as Nadia steps back.

"I want you to pinpoint the exact moment in time where you decided to turn away from your mission, 147. Pinpoint the moment in time you fell in love with Peter Parker and became a failure."

You fight against the leather straps binding your arms to the wooden chair. Nadia's eyes widen for a moment as the vibranium magnets that hold the straps to the chair groan against your strength. They're unbreakable though, you can't leave until Nadia allows you to.

"I'm not in love with-,"

"That's right. You'll never feel an emotion as happy as love. You don't deserve to," Nadia's voice is biting and cruel. You don't deserve it.

You grit your teeth, feeling anger low in your gut before Nadia snaps her fingers.

You gasp as you sit up. Looking down you're in Peter's blue Midtown sweatshirt, your arms and legs are free. You look around you, four concrete walls. You were back at the Avenger's facility.

Click.

"Peter?" you swing your legs off the bed and stand up, hoping to see the curly haired boy. The door swings open and Peter smiles, walking towards you.

"Hi," you nod, watching as Peter continues towards you.

"Kiss me," Peter smiles wider, tilting his head and you find yourself leaning into the warm hand on your cheek. You swear you hear a low rumbling in the distance. Or maybe it's you and Peter's heartbeats thumping in your chests.

You ignore the crackle of electricity beneath his fingertips because Peter is going to kiss you and he is looking at you like Robert looks at Giselle. For a moment it is magical as your eyes flutter shut and Peter's lips brush against your own.

But only for a moment.

You are only given a fleeting moment of what you could only describe as the closest to happiness you've ever felt before it is taken away from you. All too cruelly, all too quickly.

For the longest time you've felt like you've been living your life through these disconnected moments. From the time you learned to speak 6 languages to the time you killed your first target to your first honor match to the time Peter rescued you. To the time Peter held your hand, gave you his blue sweatshirt, held you in his arms while you cried. No part of your life, your memories, seemed to connect to each other. Each is a vignette unto themselves. Like if you fit together your life into a puzzle, too many pieces would be missing, you couldn't understand it through the blank spaces and the fuzzy memories that may or may not be real.

You so desperately want this moment to be real, however. Even if no moment before it and no moment after it were real, they don't matter now. Even if your life is made of blowing out candles on a pink birthday cake and performing ballet in front of a sea of yellow dresses and green sweaters, you want this to be real more than anything else.

Right here. Right now. It has to be real.

The soft blue Midtown sweatshirt. The red flush on his cheeks. His brown eyes staring so deeply into your own.