WARNING? If the last chapter bothered you, this will most likely also bother you. Probably. This chapter is a bit ickier.

My throat is raw, swollen nearly shut from my screams. I don't think I could talk even if I knew every secret SHIELD ever had. I actually passed out this last time. So that was nice. Cut his visit short at least.

I have no idea how long I've been here. Several days, I think. There're no windows and whenever the door opens, the hallway beyond is always dark. But Pitch, as I've taken to thinking of the shadow man, has visited me several times.

Since I have a few moments of conscious peace, I try to think. The serum must have built up in my system because I can think a lot clearer and make connections much faster than I should be able to, given my circumstances. I'm not sure why Pitch is continuing the torture when it's obvious that I can't tell him anything important. I've essentially only told him that James is ticklish and Steve is tall. Even if he did want information, he's pushing me way too hard for me to last much longer. My best guess is that Pitch is a sadist and just entertaining himself until either he has to give me back, or I die.

They give me a rest between 'interviews' – long enough to fall asleep for a little, Pitch always comes back before I wake up on my own. But Carson appears during this rest.

The sound of the door startles me and I jar my left arm. It's probably broken – I don't think it's supposed to bend that way between my elbow and shoulder, but I'm no doctor. I don't have to struggle so hard to keep from crying from the pain anymore. I'm too dehydrated. But I do know why they keep the room so cold – to slow my bleeding. Very thoughtful.

When I see that it isn't Pitch this time, but Carson, I'm taken aback. He looks so different wearing the same black uniform I've seen on Pitch.

"Anne." He doesn't look happy to see me, at least not like this. Again, I'm taken aback. Why would this make him unhappy? This is because of him.

I don't answer him. Mostly because my entire throat is throbbing and I don't want to waste the effort it would take to speak to him.

"Why don't you tell them what they want to know?" Not Scottish, apparently. His accent is gone.

Just as well. I wouldn't want to hold it against David Tennant.

I glare lazily out of one eye. My right eye is still swollen shut; it's been hit a couple more times to keep it that way, I think.

He sighs. "If you just cooperated, it'd go easier for you..."

I huff through my nose. "Truth serum. How could I lie?" I croak shortly, wanting him to stop talking. Pitch injects the serum into the base of my skull at the start of each 'interview', ensuring that I'm not hiding anything from them.

Carson rakes his fingers through his dark hair. "I don't know. Maybe he's asking in a way that you can skirt around. Answering truthfully but not fully."

I try not to tense up. He's a lot closer to the truth than I thought he'd be.

"Just, just tell him something," he looks up, searching my face. "You can make it stop. He'll leave you alone until SHIELD makes the trade."

I look down, seeing the knife still in my left thigh– I'm pretty sure Pitch gets a kick out of the fact that whenever I squirm, I'm basically cutting myself further –the mangled fingers of my left hand, each of which have been broken; the bloody mess of my right arm where he had sliced long, shallow cuts everywhere – not deep enough for me to bleed to death, of course, all very precise. I seem to be a variety show of torture techniques and that's not even taking into account the psychological trauma.

Carson seems genuinely concerned for me. It makes me sick that I have no idea if he really is or if it's just another tactic from Pitch.

So I inhale slowly and shake my head. "Can't. Don't have anything to say." I look back up to see Carson looking torn.

"I tried, Anne. Please remember that I tried," he pleads.

The door opens and Pitch is back.

I stifle a whimper, but I can't stop my hands from trembling painfully.

"Thank you," he nods to Carson. "That'll be all. Unless you wanted to sit in?"

"Oh. No, sir." He lingers a moment longer before leaving without looking back.

Pitch wheels in another cart. Guess he already used his favorites from the last one. At least there doesn't seem to be a jar of spiders this time.

"Well, Anne, how are we feeling? Good, I hope?"

I look at him like he's a moron, 'cause he is, and keep my mouth shut. I don't trust myself to speak without my voice breaking.

He sighs. "I was hoping you'd be in a mood to cooperate this time. But that's just as well. It's been a while since I had the opportunity to use Greek Fire." He holds up a glass container half-filled with a thick, murky, green liquid. "That isn't its real name, of course. But I can never remember what the egg-heads in R&D call it. Besides, I think 'Greek Fire' communicates its capabilities quite nicely, don't you?"

'Liquid fire. Fantastic.'

Pitch sets it back down on the trolley and picks up a syringe, filled with the golden serum. I steady my breathing for what's coming. It's much worse if I move. He stands behind me and shoves my head forward, exposing the back of my neck. The slide of the needle into the base of my skull isn't that bad actually. It's when he begins the injection, that's when it gets unpleasant. I swear I can feel it flooding my brain. Alternating waves of sweats and chills wash over me and my mind burns. It soon dissolves into a background buzz and my vision swirls momentarily. I seem to recover from the initial side-effects quicker every time.

He doesn't ask questions this time. Instead, after setting aside the empty syringe, he removes the glass stopper from the acid and tilts the beaker far enough for one drop to spill out, not on me, but on the chair beside my leg. The metal seat hisses and bubbles as the acid slowly eats its way through.

Pitch grins. "A nice, slow burn, if you will. Prolongs the sensation and leaves the nerves mostly intact – able to feel everything longer."

He moves the jar over my right leg that had, until now, remained unscathed. Even though I know it'll do nothing to help, I can't stop myself from tugging against my restraints. But he hesitates, letting the jar hover half tilted over my leg.

"I must admit that I'm rather surprised at how long you've lasted. You must care for him very much."

The serum is already in full swing and I answer before I can stop myself. "Of course I fell in love with Captain America; he's Steve."

His grin grows and he lets two drops fall.

It takes less than a second to work its way through my thin leggings. Heat immediately radiates from site of impact and grows to an intense, agonizing burn that sends pulses of white-hot pain across my entire leg.

I thought I couldn't scream anymore. I was wrong.

I think nothing can feel worse than this. I'm wrong.

Pitch empties half the container onto my leg.

I pray I'll black out like I did last time, but my heart is beating hard and fast, keeping the blood pumping to my brain. Hard and fast. My chest, it's too tight. I can't breathe. At least that would stop the fire in my leg. It feels like there's a rabbit in my chest. I can't calm myself down. My vision is darkening around the edges and I'm gasping like a dry fish but it's doing nothing.

Everything tightens.

Everything stops.

I wake suddenly, my heart racing again, and I pant, desperate to catch my breath. My leg is still on fire, though I don't notice it quite as much as before.

Pitch steps in front of me. "Your heart stopped," he explains calmly, placing another empty syringe on his cart.

My mind spins, trying to catch up.

"Fortunately, I was prepared for such an eventuality." His sick smile implies something more – he'd planned it.

"What'd...give me?" I wheeze, unable to form a complete sentence.

"Just epinephrine." He tilts his head side to side, "mostly."

'Not just subjected to torture from a crazed scientist, but also experiments. Swell. At least it seems to be putting a dampener on my ability to feel my leg.'

Or it was, until I thought about my leg.

I struggle to think of anything else to distract myself. Like how much I want to punch Carson in the nose. Or how if the gang were here, they'd have Pitch peeing his pants in about two seconds flat. Or how I'm never again offering to help anyone move. Entirely more dangerous than I had thought before this.

None of this distracts me from my pain. I think the serum is helping me process everything too easily.

I groan, trying to keep a scream from ripping through my throat.

"Come now," Pitch starts, disappointed. "Haven't we known each other long enough for you to be honest with me? What's it feel like? I've always wondered."

"Hand me the beaker. I'll show you," I grind out.

His eyes light up, pleased that I've responded with some fire. "Hands. Now that isn't a bad idea. Want to see how it eats through bone?" Pitch asks as he moves the jar to hover over my right hand.

But before he gets there, the old intercom by the door buzzes. With a sigh, he set the glass container down and moves to the intercom.

"What?" he asks irritably.

"Unauthorized entry, sir," a thin voice crackles through the system. "The west doors have been breached."

This snaps Pitch out of his mood. He immediately becomes professional. "Identified?" he asks with a glance over his should to me.

'He's worried.'

There's a short pop before the voice answers, "The Avengers, sir."

I find the energy to smirk back, splitting my lip. My leg is momentarily unimportant.

Pitch swears loudly. "Immediate evac. Wipe the system. Clear the labs. No trace."

"Yes, sir-" the voice is cut off by a blast that makes even the room that I'm in shudder. Concrete dust drifts from the ceiling.

"We're sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer available. Please hang up and try again." Tony's voice cuts through the intercom before the line goes dead.

Pitch's face contorts in panicked fury. He draws his pistol from his thigh holster. Glancing to me, he silently considers his options.

"Kill me, and you're dead. Leave me, and you'll just get your butt kicked," I offer.

He pauses a moment longer before a shout and running footsteps from the hall decides for him. Pitch opens the door to see his soldiers rushing past, engaging someone far beyond my line of sight. He glances back, paler than I've ever seen him, looking like he wants to have the last word.

"You forgot an option." In an instant he has his weapon aimed at me. He pulls the trigger without hesitation and I feel the bullet tear through my torso. "They fight to save you while I escape." He smiles, self-satisfied, and darts out the door. I hear the slide of the bolt as he locks it before running off.

I look down to see blood spilling from my ribs. This is how Dad died.

Suddenly, it feels like something's been switched in my head.

'Not good. Heard a crack – probably broke a rib. Breathing is the worst – partially perforated lung? I should try to calm my heart rate to slow the bleeding until my boys get here.'

I close my eyes, and focus past my pain and surprise. It isn't much, but my heart slows.

'How'd I do that?'

My errant thought distracts me and I feel my heart rate pick up. I keep my eyes closed and try to rein in my thoughts.

I don't know how long I stay like this, trying to ignore the growing return of the pain that threatens to saturate every corner of me, but just as I begin to feel light headed, the door crashes off its hinges.

My eyes fly open and I see Steve in the doorway, James just behind him.

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A/N: Hurray!! Sound the trumpets of jubilation! Help has arrived!

I thought I'd give you something moderately happier than just leaving Anne to be tortured over Christmas. I mean, yeah, she was tortured for several days and has a gunshot to the gut...but now Steve and Bucky (and Tony- can't leave him out. He gets snippy and difficult to work with. Adorable little drama llama) are there. So, that evens things out.

Right?

Right.

You could say this is my gift to everyone for all of the nice comments (that I have not replied to because I'm awful and I apologize) and votes and sudden explosion in the number of readers, I guess.

I'm a bit cheap. Sorry about that.

But seriously, over 860 reads and 114 votes already and I wasn't expecting more than a couple of reads for each chapter... I just... holy guacamole, you guys. Thank you so much!

Merry Christmas! :D