If Fergus was an animal, he would definitely wish to be a chameleon. It was unnerving to be in this plain room and be stared at by Captain America personally.

It took every ounce of his self-control not to break down like a wailing baby and beg the man to leave. Even though he knew Captain America was the epitome of everything good that was in this dying world, he couldn't help but be haunted by the phantom smells of smoke and stains of crimson on his hands.

It wasn't real and he knew it, it was the nightmare his mind forced him to keep re-living. He didn't know if it was ever going to go away, but he had a feeling it wasn't. And it had already changed his life drastically. Instead of breaking down, he kept his emotionless gaze upon the tall, muscular man who was still waiting for an answer. Fergus knew that merely a month ago he would have been shaking in his pants, succumbed himself into a panic attack. But things had changed, he has changed. He could feel it.

Bloody hell, he turned into a wolf and couldn't recall a thing.

He gulped down a ball of nerves, hurt and anger and licked his dry lips. "I don't know what to say, uhm, Mister America?" he answered slowly as if every word he was about to say was going to be used against him. He couldn't play around with Steve as he had with Ralph, so he was definitely going to be more cautious around the man. Steve inched close to the table, stopping when he realized Fergus was moving too, trying to cross his arms, only to halt at the painful dug into his wrists. His green eyes flickered down at the restraints that prevented him from crossing his arms. A sign of trying to protect himself or feeling uneasy. Steve stilled. "Just call me Steve, would it be easier if I asked the question?" his voice wasn't loud or too quiet, it was smooth without the rough edges that Mr Lennon had. But Steve's voice held a sort of tone that wasn't demanding for respect, it seemed to come naturally. As if he was born to lead people no matter the circumstance.

And something about Steve's steady stance and calculating look was actually more comforting than Fergus would have guessed. Steve knew what was going on, what would happen, the coincidences etcetera. "Go for it, old champ." he threw the teasing nickname in more for his own racing heart rather than Steve's. Fergus needed to feel some sort of security again, and teasing was the way to go. The surprise that washed over the other man's features was enough for Fergus to relax his shoulders slightly. He liked to catch people off guard, whether it was with making their belongings disappear or making a sarcastic remark out of the blue. "How have they been treating you here?" that was not the question he was expecting, but he supposed Steve was somewhat trying to be a therapist.

Not that Fergus needed therapy, he was fine. Totally okay, right?

"Oh pretty fine, I got my own room, bathroom and mattress and everything. Even though they do lack fashion sense or maybe every other colour but white was gone from the stores... I don't really know. Oh, and apparently someone beat me up. Look, Steve, we both know it's not ideal from my point of view so I don't know, don't... don't ask what you already know." the blond man nodded, blue eyes looking at the restraints briefly. "The attack on the tower. What do you know about it? Also, I'm sorry about hitting you with my shield." Fergus gave a small nod, not feeling mad even for a second.

Tell him about the Lennons? It would probably lead to Mr Lennon being locked up, which means Fergus would be unable to kill him. But maybe he could kill Nick Lennon while the man was restrained? No, that would not be fair. But if he gave up the Lennon family, it would take their attention off of him. So he had to choose, let go of the anger and need of vengeance to get an opening for himself, or be forced behind four walls to rot.

There's no chance he was going to give up Nick Lennon. Fergus was thirsting for blood. And he would be damned if someone else beat him to the kill.

"I-I don't know, I was just... there." He stuttered, hoping it would have more influence if he looked a little afraid. It seemed to work. "Okay, that's okay. Why did you ask Stark to give you a fake death?" now that was a question he had not prepared himself for.

"I wanted to disappear. Didn't come out well now did it. I realised... Realised something was wrong with me." He casted his green eyes down, picking his nails as he tried to look deep in thought. He continued before Steve could ask another question. "Whatever is in me, demands to be let out, like an animal. Which I probably am, right? So I didn't want to place... place anyone in danger. And that time there, near the tower I saw my chance to disappear." He hoped this was good enough for Steve for the time being. He had to come up with something more convincing.

He nodded at Fergus' answer, opening his mouth to ask another question but a knock sounded on the door before it was opened slightly. Fergus' eyes snapped to the person, identifying him as Wilson. "Cap" he greeted the other man who stood up, hiding him from Fergus' view, or maybe it was the other way around. "Thank you." Wilson said nothing else but gave a simple nod before closing the door. Fergus' nostrils flared at the smell of freshly brewed coffee and doughnuts that drowned his senses. His head perked up slightly as he heard the crunching of a paper bag as Steve walked back, he tossed the bag on the table and sat down. Fergus noticed the subtle way Steve inched the chair closer to the table. He placed one plastic cup in front of the teen, retracting his hand slowly as he noticed the tension.

"Coffee and vanilla doughnuts, thought you needed some sugar in you." he said lowly, raising the cup up to his lip that Fergus noticed was actually busted a bit, but the bruise seemed to be days old. His green eyes danced between the brown bag and the cup, doubt flickering in his hungry gaze. "You know, I'm a bit hungry myself, I'll steal one if you don't mind." the super-soldier said, reaching for the bag and taking out one perfectly round doughnut and then sliding the bag back towards Fergus. The teen watched suspiciously as Steve ate, his eyes roaming over his slightly tanned face to see if there was any sign of illness. He didn't trust those people, and his instincts were all over the place, the claustrophobic room was getting to him. But he noticed talking with someone helped.

Steve nodded towards the bag, urging him to eat. His belly grumbled, reminding him of his hunger that seemed to be eating his inner organs as pain pinched his stomach. He reached for the bag, wrists still bound as he hesitantly opened the mouth of the bag and took out one doughnut. He eyed it carefully, almost annoyed as Steve took another, slow bite of his snack as he chewed slowly. He took a small bite, nibbling on it as he suddenly pushed back the urge to just eat all of the doughnuts from the table and growl like an animal to keep Steve away.

He took a sip, pleasantly surprised at the taste. "What about your new foster family? How did they treat you?" he asked almost nonchalantly, finishing off the sugary good as he brushed some crumbs off his clothes. It took everything to not flinch at the mention of them. "They were nice. Like a family, didn't want them in harms way." that answer should suffice, he thought, wouldn't give out too much and stay rather neutral. Fergus didn't bother to ask how did Steve know of his foster family. He was Captain America, whatever he asked was most likely delivered to him under sixty seconds.

"Wouldn't you perhaps know where they would go? They seem to have disappeared." these news were rather startling. He couldn't help but look up like a deer in headlights. Nick Lennon and vanished? Oh great, how was he supposed to find him now? "N-no. Gone? Gone where?" He asked more from himself than Steve. "We don't know, but we are searching." He took another bite of his third doughnut, chewing almost angrily as he glared at the white floor. Someone really liked the colour white.

"So tell me more about your talents, what can you do?" He tried to steer the conversation away from the foster family and Fergus didn't know which topic was worse. Couldn't they talk about climate change or hobbies?

"Well, I can do some pretty neat backflips. Or I used to when I hung out with this parkour group, haven't done them for two years now I think. I would most likely fall face flat on this floor and break my neck. But then again, would it be such a loss? I can also quote The Legend of Zorro throughout the whole movie, I know all of the lyrics of the Tequila song and I am sure if you asked me about geography I could name every capital of every country you could even think of. Also, I can peel potatoes, definitely a task one should know before stepping into adulthood." Fergus took a deep breath, fully aware he had been rambling like a madman, Steve's amused expression was a confirmation of that. "But whatever you do, don't make me do chores, that's not my forte." Steve shook his head, blue eyes throughout and soft as he watched the teen inhale another doughnut. "You enjoy geography?" Fergus nodded, brushing his chin with the back of his hand as he realized some crumbs were still on his face.

"I do too, do the cuffs help you?" Steve pointed towards his tied hands, Fergus blinked down at the thin handcuffs, pushing down the urge to growl lowly. He hung his head low, managing a sad expression that he immediately brushed off, but he knew Steve had noticed. Perfect.

"N-not exactly, no." He squirmed in his seat, taking a gulp of his drink to avoid eye contact. "Why's that?" his tone had become more serious, a bit sharper. "It's just, you know, making me tired, draining me, I think. It's... It's no big deal, really, forget it. What do you think will happen to me next? Are they going to toss my body into the sea or something? Burn me like one of the salem witches?" Fergus chuckled nervously, trying to cross his hands but the cuffs biting into his skin made him just drop them onto his lap. "Wait, you're not going to burn me are you?!" he looked up, startled as his eyes widened alarmingly. "No, no one is going to murder you, Fergus, take a deep breath, you're bringing forth a panic attack, deep breaths." Steve's voice had taken soft undertone again, making Fergus realize his act was actually giving him breathing problems. He nodded, eyes dancing from one spot to another as he assessed Steve's stature from the corner of his eye, realizing the man was still as a statue, trying not to startle Fergus any further.

"I'm okay, all fine, so no murdering me?"

"No murdering, just questions all right? Now, you did... murder people. Do you wanna tell me what happened?" He leaned in slightly, tilting his head lower to try and remake eye contact that Fergus was trying to ignore. The fact that he had killed -whether it was in his skin or in another- was slowly starting to sink in. He had killed, and he was planning Nick Lennon's murder as well? He was a psycho.

That was the question that he needed to either answer or make it the ending of their interrogation. His mind went blank. Did those people he supposedly kill had deserved it? He hoped they had, or he wouldn't be able to live with himself, but was he danger to other people? He might be. Was it better for him to be locked in a cell? Maybe, but that didn't mean he was going to stay there.

He wasn't going to kill any more people, and that meant not allowing himself to get worked up. If he just got that -whatever the hell that is- under tight wraps, he should be fine, right?

"You can tell me, Fergus. I'm here to help, remember?" as sweet and soft Steve tried to be, Fergus would not utter another word. As Captain looked at him, the teen seemed to have locked himself away completely. Not a single muscle moved, his green eyes were heavily guarded and he wondered what went on behind those burning orbs. He tried again, asked a harmless question this time, but the boy in cuffs kept his silence. Steve talked a little, told Fergus about his day (what he was allowed to tell, that is), about his hobbies and favourite food even. But it was no use, and the party that had gathered behind the see-through mirror knew it as well.

And SHIELD had no time to wait for a silly boy to open up, the world was not stopping because he needed to think, the bad guys didn't stop their terrible acts because Fergus kept his silence.

It didn't take long for someone to open the door and tell Captain America to leave, Fergus knew by the number of people taking him away that Steve was in trouble, especially when a one-eyed man simply looked them over and then walked away, his presence had made Fergus shudder.

That was a wolf, and he didn't even have a tendency to hide in sheep's clothing like everyone else.

Soon, Fergus found himself back in the cell, tossed into the corner by new agents, Ralp and Bob were gone. He had tried to name the new ones, but nothing really seemed to fit. He had tried to name one Dracula, but the dark blue handprints on his bicep told him the man hadn't been very pleased.

The silence was his companion once again a he pulled his legs up to his chest, eyes void of any emotion as he prayed that his act in front of Steve had at least pulled the right strings of sympathy. All he needed to do was plant the seed so the poisonous flower would grow.

Steve had been nice, had fed him. But once day turned to night and the lights were turned off, Fergus knew that whatever higher beings there were, were out to get him. And he was convinced that the whole world was against him, and he alone, would stand against everything life threw at him.

Whether it was the death of his best friend, lies that made him swallow tears, the empty hole in his heart that yearned for someone to love him or the fists that made him bleed in the middle of the night, Fergus knew he only grew stronger.

And with the strength grew his hatred. He would make them pay.

***

I am sorry for such a long wait. I have tried to write this or other books, but I'm just not in this right headspace. I have tried, really I have. But I can't seem to form the right words. I'm sorry, I'll try harder but you know, things aren't ideal at the moment.

All I can say is that I'll keep on trying, even if it's just one sentence a day.