DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; absolutely positively nothing.
Hello, darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
- Simon & Garfunkel, "The Sound of Silence"
The compound was quiet... almost too quiet. Magdalena could hear nothing but the sound of her own ragged breathing, another dream about falling through the Triskelion waking her. Darkness still hung heavy in the room. Glancing at her nightstand, she saw the small clock glare at her. It was 4:16 in the morning.
There was no point in attempting to fall back asleep. It had never worked in the past, her dreams lingering in a back corner of her mind that she could never quite reach. In the past, she would go to her tiny kitchen and make a cup of chamomile tea in hopes of calming her nerves. But her kitchen was empty. No tea, no kettle, no relief in sight.
Magdalena had officially moved into her new quarters only three days prior. Maria had helped her carry her meager belongings from her car, which she had parked in the underground garage.
"Four boxes?" Maria asked, stunned. "Mags, how have you survived the past three years with only four boxes of belongings?"
Magdalena smiled gently at Maria's nickname for her. It had been a long time since anyone had called her Mags.
"I had more than four boxes. But when I made the decision to follow your cryptic message, I left most everything behind. These are just a few personal possessions and a couple changes of clothes. I assumed there would be a uniform, so I didn't bother packing my whole closet."
She was starting to doubt her decisions, though. Maria had come to see her several times a day since she arrived and was never in a SHIELD uniform, always dressed casually and comfortably. Perhaps she should have packed more than a few sleep shirts, a pair of jeans, yoga pants, and a few blouses.
"Well, I guess we're just going to have to take you shopping. We'll go into town in a few days. After all, it's not like Amazon will deliver here." Maria smiled at the prospect of taking Magdalena into town for a few hours. She genuinely liked the data specialist and hoped, in time, that she would be able to consider her a friend.
Magdalena pulled a face at the prospect of clothes shopping. If there was one thing she hated more than HYDRA, it was shopping for clothes.
Though she stood five and a half feet tall—not exactly short—the clothing industry labeled her "petite." Fallen arches made wearing heels uncomfortable, so she couldn't add extra height that way. Most pants, dresses, and skirts required hemming to fit properly. With a full bust and hips, clothes often fit one area but not the other. Because of this, she preferred looser clothing to hide her curves and a slight tummy pouch. She wasn't fat, just full-figured, which made shopping for clothes frustrating and her least favorite activity.
Her mother always said her hair and eyes were her best features. Magdalena had inherited her father's eyes: a golden hazel, almost greenish-gray, the pupils rimmed in a starburst of gold. They seemed to change color depending on what she was wearing. Long, curly black lashes rimmed her eyes, never needing mascara. Her hair color wasn't anything impressive, just a plain, mousy brown. It was the fact that it was thick and fell in soft waves to the small of her back that impressed most.
But she hid these features as well. Her hair was often twisted up into a clip to keep it out of her face while she leaned over a keyboard, and her eyes were hidden behind medium blue wire-framed glasses that constantly fell down her nose.
Maria made good on her threat, dragging Magdalena into town. She pulled the woman into boutique after boutique, promising her she could have whatever she wanted on Tony Stark's dime. After not being able to find anything that fit halfway decently in five different stores, Magdalena finally convinced Maria to drive further out of town to find a Walmart or a Target. At least she knew she could find some halfway decent clothes there.
Six hours after they had left the compound, the women returned with Magdalena's haul: more jeans, a pair of dress pants, a few loose-fitting tops, undergarments, boots, sneakers, and toiletries. Maria was disappointed by her choices—she knew from the slight downturn of her lips—but everything was pretty much what Magdalena had left behind. She had never owned many clothes, having always worn a SHIELD uniform at work. The fact that she didn't have a uniform anymore, just a casual dress code, disappointed her.
The following day was spent unpacking, washing her new purchases, and shopping for a few groceries. Luckily, there was a cafeteria at the compound, as well as a fully stocked communal kitchen. But that was for the Avengers, not lowly data specialists, so she did her best to avoid it. That wasn't the only reason Magdalena avoided the communal areas of the compound. Despite her service at the Triskelion, she had never actually met any of the Avengers. Sure, she knew who they were and had even provided intel to them, but that was under the guise of Paperclip, hidden in her office behind computer monitors and a closed door. The thought of actually meeting them brought a slight sense of panic to her. Luckily, Maria hadn't offered to introduce her yet, and, honestly, she would be more than happy to never have to physically interact with them.
Not much else had happened since she arrived. Magdalena mostly kept to her sparsely decorated quarters, as Maria had informed her that her office wasn't quite ready. "Stark is coming down to supply you with all the latest tech, and he promised you would have access to FRIDAY." She had almost jumped like a little kid, barely able to contain her excitement at having access to a Stark Tech AI program. She wondered if she could have Maria talk Stark into putting an espresso machine in her office as well.
The clock on her nightstand now glared 5:30. Sighing, Magdalena realized that sleep definitely was not coming. She had lain in bed mulling over the past few days long enough.
She swung her legs out from under the covers, allowing her feet a moment to adjust to the chill of the floor. Padding her way across the bedroom to her dresser, she observed in the dim predawn light just how empty her room was. Sure, there was a bed, a nightstand, and a dresser, but it didn't look lived in yet, like something out of a model home. She made a note to get a bookcase and a few prints to hang on the wall.
Grabbing a pair of leggings and a workout top, she decided to head down to the training facility. No one would be there this early. The new recruits weren't required to report until eight o'clock, and, most days, they were running laps around the compound before heading to the firing range.
Stopping in the kitchen for a bottle of water, she took a moment to take in the rest of her surroundings. Her quarters at the compound were like a penthouse compared to those at the Triskelion. A large open living space gave way to a sparsely filled kitchenette. The furniture was classy without being gauche. A black leather sofa sat facing an oval glass coffee table that held her personal laptop. Floor-to-ceiling windows seemed to be an obsession of Stark's when he renovated. Hers looked out toward the hangar, allowing her to watch the comings and goings of the Quinjets. The bathroom was tucked in a corner near her bedroom and was probably the most impressive room, as it had a large soaking tub and a separate shower.
Soon she would take the time to decorate—maybe a few prints on the wall, a couple of throw pillows, and a blanket over the back of the sofa. But until then, the rooms served their purpose.
Putting on her sneakers, Magdalena exited the apartment and headed down the hall to the elevators. There was no one out and about in her wing of the compound. Maria had assigned her housing among the more senior agents who had managed to escape the worst of the HYDRA fallout. Here, people kept to themselves, heads down and no questions asked, just how she liked it.
The elevator doors opened as if someone knew she was coming. Boarding the carriage, the doors slid closed silently, and a voice intoned, "Good morning, Dr. Bromsk."
For a moment, Magdalena had forgotten that FRIDAY was also present in the compound's mainframe. She ran the day-to-day operations of the agents' lives, making sure their laundry was picked up, restocking their pantries, and directing the elevators to their preferred destinations.
"Good morning, FRIDAY. Training level, please."
The elevator came to life, slowly making its way to one of the sub-basement levels. When the doors opened, Magdalena took in her surroundings.
There was no hallway to walk down; the elevator opened directly into the facility. And what a facility it was. There were balance beams, free weights, and every workout machine that had ever been created. One wall was lined top to bottom with mirrors, a ballet barre running its full length. On the far wall were punching bags and a small boxing ring. A lone door gave way to what Magdalena assumed was a locker room and showers.
Finding her mind at peace for the first time since she had awoken, Magdalena made her way slowly to the barre. She had done several years of ballet as a child. She had planned to continue, but puberty had other ideas for her. The appearance of her rounded figure put an end to her classes, but she still remembered the exercises and enjoyed doing them when she could... She began facing the bar to stretch and warm up. A few slow tendus gave way to demi-pliés and gentle upper-body bends. She could feel her muscles stretch, the tension from her dream slowly starting to slip away. Soon she lost herself in the movements; jetés, frappés, and petits battements put her mind at ease and allowed her to enter a trance-like state... so much so that she didn't hear the elevator door open.