Echoes

When Mickey Pierce showed up at Scarlett's loft she didn't bother taking the keys out of her ignition. Leaving the car door open she ran up the drive, through the unlocked door, and stopped dead in the living room. There was nothing, no sound, no sign of a struggle. Laptop lay open on the coffee table, the video messenger application still running.

Then the sound of retching echoed throughout the loft and Mickey grimaced. She found Scarlett sick to her stomach in the bathroom, lying on the floor. About an hour prior she'd received a broken transmission through Scarlett's computer. After everything that had gone down in the last twenty four hours, Mickey didn't waste a single second.

It didn't matter that Agent Pierce had a flight back to Boston that evening or that she had been in the middle of a very important meeting with Nick Fury, the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. The moment she'd gotten the call, she'd excused herself and drove to the loft near the coast. Scarlett very rarely asked for help so when she did Mickey knew it had to be serious.

Scarlett could barely stand and barely spoke. The only words she managed were help and sorry. Mickey had never seen her, or anyone, this sick before. She had no color in her face, her eyes were sunken in and her lips were completely ashen. For awhile Mickey contemplated how to could get Scarlett into the car since Scarlett couldn't seem to stand and kept coughing every time she tried. Once the coughing fit was so bad, so violent, that Scarlett collapsed to the floor and saw stars.

Finally Mickey said screw it and slipped her arms beneath Scarlett's knees and under her shoulders. Expecting to heave and struggle to lift the tall woman off of the ground, she was surprised by what ease she managed with.

Carrying Scarlett to the car, Mickey carefully rested her in the passenger's seat. As she reached to buckle her in, Scarlett swatted Mickey's hand away and did it herself. Her fingers were numb and her strength was waning but she hadn't completely given up. Not yet.

"You're going to be okay, Scarlett. I promise."

Scarlett nodded but everything about her body language said she believed otherwise. The only reason Scarlett hadn't given in and passed out on the damn bathroom floor was because of Tony. She had to at least find enough strength, enough time, to talk to Tony and tell him the truth. More importantly she needed to say how sorry she was and just how deeply she cared for him. There had always been sexual tension, always. But it was more than that.

Scarlett thought it sounded corny, even half conscious in the passenger's seat.

Mickey wouldn't let her walk once they'd arrived at the S.H.I.E.L.D. building and Scarlett was all right with that. Part of her was done fighting, at least for now. The strength had been drained from her and at an alarming rate. She wondered if this was it, if this was really it. She shouldn't have told Tony to go if that was the case. Selfishly, again, she wanted him to be with her. Being alone was torture after having had him for such a short time.

No one had ever held Scarlett's hand and asked 'what about you' through all of this. It was her own fault, of course. She'd wrote it off time and again. She was fine. Scarlett could handle whatever life threw at her! It was no big deal!

But it was a big deal and she wasn't strong enough to do it alone. The truth was that no one was. Anyone else would have needed as much help as Scarlett did, probably more so. But no, she had to be stubborn, she had to be strong. It all seemed very stupid now. Scarlett hated the wheelchair Mickey forced her into as she was wheeled through secure doors. She'd never been to this facility before, not even for a briefing. Even when Scarlett had been staying in Malibu she had resigned to the fact that she was going to Boston for her meetings with S.H.I.E.L.D. or she would do them over the phone.

Any treatments that Jemma Simmons had arranged had also been in Boston or in a private medical facility nearby. This S.H.I.E.L.D. facility was just as nice, if not nicer, than the one she was used to in Manhattan and Boston. Scarlett couldn't take in much but from what she saw everything had a nice, calming blue hue to it. The technology here was better, smoother and she wondered absently if they did business with Tony Stark on a regular basis. She knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. had technology nearly as impressive as Tony's but it was still something to marvel at.

It was calming, taking in the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. That was until people noticed who she was and what was happening. First it was one or two agents who stopped to ask Mickey if she needed help. Scarlett didn't hear the answer but she did hear what came next. There was a swarm of people, shouting to others, asking for help, calling for doctors.

"This way! This way." Jemma Simmons came running through the crowd of S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents. Scarlett had no idea there were so many of them working behind the scenes on what she had assumed was a simple operation since she'd shown up. Turned out S.H.I.E.L.D. took her much more seriously than she had thought and this was both troubling and a relief. MedCo, the assholes running it, the poisons they were developing, were no laughing, small matter. This poison, whatever it was doing to her body, whatever attempts it had made to alter her genome was atrocious.

It was killing her.

Scarlett knew it would kill other people too. She couldn't let that happen and for a brief moment she was glad S.H.I.E.L.D. was there and taking it so seriously so that maybe they could stop it. Mickey carved a path through the crowd and someone else ordered everyone back to their tasks at hand. It was a voice Scarlett didn't recognize so she didn't think anything of it considering the whole room was full of people she didn't rightly recognize.

The next twenty minutes were disorienting to the point where Scarlett found herself bent over the trash can vomiting once she was left alone. There was very little left in her stomach to get rid of so there was a lot of pointless, uncomfortable heaving that devolved into painful coughing. Every so often she saw spots in her vision, threatening to knock her unconscious but she refused and fought with every bit of her being.

Mickey came in every so often, bringing her water and forcing her to keep trying to get fluids down since she would quickly succumb to dehydration at this rate. Then Mickey disappeared and Scarlett didn't see her for hours. Jemma and Leo took turns coming in to see her and observer her. Before the afternoon was over, Jemma had helped her change into a hospital gown and got her into a hospital bed before giving her a full workup. The S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent wouldn't even look Scarlett in the eye. Leo Fitz would but his eyes were full of fear and sadness.

Scarlett had nothing to say despite how many questions were asked. A team of Agents had come in to try and get information on what exactly had happened to Clint Barton to verify Mickey's account of the situation even though Scarlett was pretty sure that was a waste of time. She didn't respond, partially because she was too exhausted and partially because she was tired of answering questions. Everyone had asked her intrusive questions all damn day long, everyone from Scott, to Mikhail, to Natasha, to the press, the doctors, then Tony, and now S.H.I.E.L.D.

Scarlett didn't have any of the answers anymore.

For the first time in her life she felt utterly and completely powerless.

For the first time in her life she felt ignorant.

She didn't know how she was going to keep fighting something she couldn't see, something that struck her the moment she let down her guard. Scarlett had no idea how Clint was going to survive his ordeal and how she would ever face Natasha again. They had just buried the hatchet and now there was a rift driven so far between them Scarlett couldn't even dream of trying to build a new bridge across. Natasha had wished her as good as dead and while Scarlett knew deep down that her friend had only said so in a moment of grief she also knew the damage those words had done. If the thought had even crossed Natasha's mind enough that she felt the need to say it out loud, it was a problem.

Part of Natasha, even if it was a very small part, had wished Scarlett dead.

Scarlett couldn't be the only person in her corner anymore. If S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't going to support her the way they had agreed to Scarlett was unsure what would happen. She thought again of Paris, of just going there under a different name and waiting for it all to end. But she couldn't and she knew she couldn't. As Jemma took vial after vial of blood Scarlett knew she had to keep fighting. It didn't matter how sick she was, she knew that MedCo wasn't done. They wouldn't stop not even with her dead. They'd get what they wanted one way or another if someone didn't stop them.

But Scarlett was coming to realize she likely wouldn't be part of the endgame.

When Agents Simmons and Fitz came back into the room after what Scarlett assumed had been hours, they looked shaken. Fitz held his head high but he was biting his lip and Jemma was barely holding herself together.

"We got the results of your blood work." Leo spoke clearly but that fear of Scarlett still hung on him as it always had. Scarlett sat up and wiped the sweat from her brow. It didn't matter how bad things actually were she would do everything in her power to remain as poised as she could. That was just who Scarlett was. Neither agent said anything and Jemma stirred in place and averted her eyes, sniffling every so often.

"And that's it? Are you just going to stand there?" Scarlett tried to prompt them but her voice sounded shaky. It was the first time she'd spoken since Mickey had picked her up and her voice sounded strange even to her. For a moment she recoiled but did her best not to let it show. Even as terrible as she felt she never expected to sound as bad as she felt.

"It's not good." Leo spoke and his voice was oddly detached like he'd prepared himself to say it over and over.

"You're not taking care of yourself, Scarlett." Jemma pushed past Leo and with tears in her eyes finally said what had been on her mind since she'd seen the results of the blood work. Scarlett shook her head and looked away. It wasn't that she had gone out of her way not to take care of herself but she hadn't gone out of her way to do a good job either. It was difficult to remember her limitations when she felt like she had none. By the time she felt them the damage was done and it was too late.

Leaning back against the pillow Scarlett stared at the ceiling. The way Jemma spoke to her she should have felt embarrassed, like a child who had disappointed a parent but she didn't. Scarlett wondered what the next course of action would be. She couldn't fight if she kept feeling like this. What if it didn't rebound this time? She'd been here before, sick as hell and sure she was at the end but then they'd treated her and sent her on her way and a day later she was surprised she'd even considered the end was near.

She couldn't think that way. It was destructive and she knew if she said it out loud someone would call her out on it. Or maybe not. Judging by the way her company was acting she thought they would maybe agree.

Natasha would.

Very briefly Scarlett considered giving Scott exactly what he wanted. Whatever was infecting her was toxic, was killing her. If it would spare the people left defending her, the people who had tried to help her when she walked into the S.H.I.E.L.D. building with Mickey then maybe it was worth the sacrifice. There would be pain, she knew that, but Scarlett had been in pain for a long time already.

Maybe if she could find a way she could make all the fuckers at MedCo sick too and then they'd all die before they hurt anyone else. Irrational thinking but god how she wished it could be true.

Scarlett was exhausted.

It was probably the exhaustion that was making her feel this terrible. She had been in no shape to go on a mission that morning. Not one that had required so much physical action. While she hadn't failed she felt like she did.

"We have to change your medication drastically, you know that right?" Simmons came and sat on the side of her bed at last having collected herself. Leo was still standing dumbfounded in the center of the room, unsure of what to do. Scarlett had ignored them, at least he thought she had but the truth was that Scarlett hadn't even known they'd been talking again after Simmons had accused her of not taking care of herself.

"Yeah." Scarlett nodded, though the word sounded stupid as she said it. Very rarely did Scarlett feel stupid.

"No more lone gunmen." Simmons leaned closer hopefully and Scarlett averted her eyes.

"Oh, come on." Fitz finally walked over to the hospital bed. "Don't be such a damn martyr, Scarlett! You can't fix this on your own! No one can! It's much bigger than you and you damn… whatever you are, assassins, mercenaries, you all think you have to do everything on your own for whatever reason! You're not alone, Scarlett, not here! We can't help you if you don't let us! I guarantee that if you keep up like this you are going to die."

"Fitz!" Simmons scolded at once.

"What? You're afraid to say it because she's… well, she's kind of got… a history of violence, but she's sick. Someone had to say it."

"Ballsy." Scarlett nodded and then coughed and closed her eyes, burning from fever. "I didn't do any of this on purpose."

"We know. We read the transcript." Leo unclenched, taking a deep breath as he did. After his outburst he'd been half afraid that Scarlett was going to jump at him, but she hadn't. Realistically he knew she was too sick to try such a stunt but after the last time they'd crossed Scarlett and she'd come at Simmons with a scalpel they didn't know what to expect.

"You know it's not as simple as just being stubborn." Scarlett whispered, clearing her throat and reaching at once for the water that someone had left near her bed. "It's different. You spend so many years on your own and you forget what it's like not to be." It was true, through all of this Scarlett had felt very alone, felt she had to be strong to keep up with everything when S.H.I.E.L.D. and more than the handful of agents she personally knew had always been there for her to help. She didn't agree with S.H.I.E.L.D. methods, she didn't like being told what to do, but it had never occurred to her that when she resisted or put up a front that it was coming off as alienating or stubborn.

Scarlett had felt alone so she'd acted alone.

It was all very complicated. She was sure a psychiatrist would have a field day with her but right now her mental state was the last thing she was worried about. The numbness in her feet and the cling in her lungs were far more concerning. Oh yeah, and the stupid fever that made her nearly catatonic.

"I get it. I guess." Leo shrugged.

"I can't imagine being alone for that long."

"I miss it sometimes." Scarlett nodded but knew that part of her life was over no matter how this played out. She wasn't giving up on adventures or chaos, that was just who she was. She just knew being alone was no longer in the cards.

"We have to treat you right now. This fever worries me." Simmons was acting considerably less panicked after having heard Scarlett speak so clearly after Fitz had broken the tension in the room. "If I can't get it down we have to take drastic measures."

"How high is this stupid thing exactly? Because I've had… I think the highest was 104? It was stupid, I passed the fuck out on a mission." Scarlett laughed but the laughter stirred up a cling in her throat and it devolved into a cough. And unfortunately that cough didn't let up and she found herself gripping on the side of the bed and leaning over it. Quickly Simmons got up and retrieved the trashcan and just in time because before any of them could predict Scarlett was retching. It was something dreadful, a horribly sickly color that Scarlett had to turn away from before gagging again.

Simmons helped her lay back and pushed her curly hair from her face. Scarlett recoiled from the touch and Fitz placed a cold cloth against her forehead.

"104 is the magic number here. If it gets that high then that's when I am going to really worry." Simmons spoke up once she was sure Scarlett was paying attention. "Right now we're just under 103 and I don’t like it."

"No one's given me anything either. That'll help, yeah?" Scarlett felt defeated and if she looked half as defeated as she felt then it would very much explain the look on Fitz and Simmons' faces.

"That's what we're hoping. But I needed to brace you that you're going to feel terrible after this. It's not… I know I promised when we met that I could keep the side effects to a minimum but the weeks ahead of us are going to be ugly."

"I don't care." Scarlett cut her off before she could go into detail about what she was going to feel. Right now Scarlett felt terrible, worse than she had felt thus far. Yeah, she'd been in the gutter before with this stupid poison but this was taking the cake. Maybe it was how scared Fitz and Simmons seemed but Scarlett had next to no confidence that there would be that many more weeks in her future. "Do what you have to do and we'll deal with the fallout."

"Okay." Simmons nodded confidently and then looked to Fitz. "Can you go get everything? I have it set up on a cart in the lab."

Fitz left Simmons to prepare Scarlett for treatment. It was all a big blur after that for Scarlett. It wasn't that the fever got worse, even though it was pretty miserable, Scarlett had decided that being detached for these sessions was the way to go. Even as Simmons set up an IV in her arm, Scarlett didn't move, didn't flinch. She explained she'd be in every half an hour to check on her vitals, to change medicine bags, and to watch the process as it played out.

She did, however, pay attention when Simmons insisted upon giving her an oxygen tube to wrap around her face. She said it was just in case but Scarlett's absence during her coughing fits worried them. Scarlett felt very suddenly like a cancer patient. She didn't want to insult those going through such a dreadful experience by comparing her suffering but she'd been into those facilities before and she felt this was awfully similar to the end.

For a few hours she slept on and off, familiarizing herself with the sound of Simmons coming in and out of the room to check on her while the medicine coursed through her veins, cold and uncomfortable. Someone turned the lights off for her so she could rest and despite how she tried, she was still acutely aware of everyone's comings and goings. It was an old habit, one she was sure she would never break until her dying day.

Then, heavier footsteps came into the room, ones Scarlett didn't recognize. She peeked an eye open and much to her surprise was face to face with the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Nick Fury, clad all in black, eye patch, trench coat, the works was staring her down with his hands in his pockets. She didn't pretend to be asleep, instead she tilted her head to the side expectantly to see what he had to say.

Scarlett hadn't met him directly before, only over the phone but she'd seen pictures and knew what to expect. They sized each other up and after a very long moment of silence, he finally spoke.

"You must be feeling pretty defeated right now."

"Buzz off." Scarlett rolled her eyes and looked away. If he was here to be condescending she wasn't going to humor him. Yeah, she was sick and had a shitty day but she didn't need Director Fury coming in there and rubbing her face in her feelings. Natasha had done that well enough for everyone already.

He walked to the edge of her bed and picked up the folder that hung off the edge of it on a metallic shelf. Flipping it open he clicked his tongue as he read it over.

"Pulmonary edema. That's a new one." He flipped the page and tapped his finger against it. "They do that ultrasound yet?"

"Nope, everyone's afraid to touch me."

"Ulcers are bad, you know. Internal bleeding is all very bad."

"No shit." Scarlett pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Localized numbness, no response to reflexive stimuli."

"Do you have a point?"

"They more than tripled your medication." Nick closed the chart and hung it back on the shelf. It had thickened considerably in the last few weeks.

"I know that. Thanks for the read along, Director Fury. How about Goodnight Moon now?" Scarlett grimaced.

"It's going to be okay." He slowly walked to the side of her bed and she rolled her eyes so far in her head that she swore she could see the bullshit behind his words. "But you have got to get yourself together."

"Don't lecture me! Don't you fucking lecture me!" Scarlett sat up, pulling the stupid oxygen tube away from her nose and draping it around her neck. "You don't get to talk to me like that and then pretend you're some bullshit father figure or something. I don't need that, not from you, not from anyone. I don't need your fucking help." With a huff she leaned back against the pillows, crossed her arms and grimaced. "I don't need anyone's help."

"You need help. You've got it backwards." Nick Fury didn't back down and she furrowed her brow. "You can't do this alone anymore."

"There's nothing I can do, nothing anyone can do. You read the chart as much as I have. You people tiptoe around the truth but the fucking truth is right in that chart and it says exactly what's happening to me."

"So that's it, then?" Nick walked around to the other side of the bed when she purposely glared away from him. "You're just throwing in the towel? Giving up?"

"No." Scarlett spat in irritation. "Does it look like I've given up? I don't give up."

"That a girl." Nick commended and Scarlett glared straight through him.

"Right now I need enough of these stupid drugs inside of me so I can function. Forgive me if I'm not kissing everyone's bent over asses in gratitude." Scarlett carefully put the oxygen tube back where it belonged, but only because she had promised Jemma she'd try to wear it for as long as it didn't drive her nuts.

"I get it, I get it. Cool the assault." Nick sat on the edge of the bed and Scarlett ignored him. Minutes past and still he didn't leave. Why was he there? To make her feel better? Like she needed that crap right now. "You did good work today."

Scarlett didn't respond merely made a sound of disapproval.

"I spoke to Agent Romanoff."

"Then you know how good a job I actually did." Scarlett grimaced.

"I also spoke to Agent Pierce and listened to the play by play. You really did do good work out there."

"Yeah, well I used to be pretty good at what I did."

"You still are."

"I shouldn't have been out there. It was irresponsible and now I'm in here."

"You saved Agent Barton's life out there. If you hadn't gone, if it had been any other agent, do you think that would have played out nearly as well?"

"For the last time, I am not an agent."

"You know what I mean." Nick didn't stand up or continue talking so silence again fell. He still didn't leave. Scarlett took deep breaths and wondered if she really had done a good job. She thought she had at the time. Well, things had been pretty shitty, the whole situation was a mess, but she hadn't thought she handled it poorly until Natasha had ripped her a new one. She softened, finally.

"Is Clint going to be okay?" Scarlett spoke with surprising clarity. Her voice felt less scratchy, less horrid. The drugs were doing something, even if they made her feel like someone had rested weights right on top of her.

"He made it out of surgery and the prognosis is good. They're expecting him to recover just fine."

Instantly Scarlett exhaled and relaxed. It didn't make things any less stressful, any less terrifying, but at least Clint would be okay and with any luck would also be free of any of the remaining fallout from Scarlett's nightmare.

"I thought you should know that Clint wasn't the only casualty today." Nick stood up at long last. "Last night MedCo and the Crown took steps toward some endgame. There were attacks all across the country on my Agents."

"Shit." Scarlett cursed under her breath.

"It's not public yet but we're investigating our connections." Nick looked to her seriously. "I've instructed everyone to be on their guard. You should be too."

Without another word, Nick Fury left her room and disappeared down the hall. Scarlett felt her stomach turn.

That sure explained why he'd shown up.