Jasper comes to abruptly, hissing in pain at the shock he gets to his side. Well, apparently they want him awake right at that very moment and don't feel like waiting. His glasses are gone, he finds as he opens his eyes and he's strapped into something. A chair of some sort. Kind of like the one you sit in when you visit the dentist, but he's got a feeling dental floss and bleeding gums would be preferable to whatever's in store for him.

"Welcome back, agent."

Pierce steps into his line of vision, still smiling as though they're back in his office, chatting over a drink. Jasper's careful not to betray any emotion, to keep his expression as neutral as possible. Given the fact that there are doctors and scientists—many of whom he recognizes—hurrying around behind Pierce, it's rather difficult to do so.

"Where are we?" Jasper questions.

"In the basement level of the Triskelion," Pierce answers. At Jasper's look of confusion, he clarifies. "Not the basement level you're familiar with. No, we're much further underground. Oh, don't look so surprised; not even Nick Fury knows about this place."

"Had to bury me far enough underground that they couldn't hear me scream, huh?" Jasper queries.

"Something like that," Pierce admits with a shrug. "Mostly because it's where I keep this little beauty."

He gestures to the chair that Jasper's strapped into and… something beyond it. Something that Jasper can't see.

"You're aware that Director Fury personally oversaw the manipulation of your good friend Phil Coulson's memories," Pierce says.

Jasper feels a stab of guilt at the obvious dig, but tries not to let it show. Yes, he knows. He doesn't know just how it was done, just that it had been. He knows because Phil hasn't been himself ever since he came back. He knows because death changes you, but not like that. Fury had admitted to it when Jasper had confronted him about it, but there had been no details given, for obvious reasons. For reasons such as his current situation.

"Well, you wouldn't know just how it was done, but this is something similar to the device used," Pierce continues, like a salesman discussing the specs of a car he's trying to sell. "It's a bit more advanced—none of that directly prodding the brain nonsense. Too much risk of, for lack of a better term, scrambling the patient. We need you intact, Agent Sitwell. For our plans to succeed, we can't afford to have you cracking like Coulson. You know very well that we have no use for broken soldiers."

Jasper knows Pierce is just trying to get a rise out of him. But knowing that does very little to stop the anger curling up and making its home in his chest. It'd be one thing if Jasper were hearing this for the first time, but as it stands, it's just to make sure he remembers he might not be the one in charge of what had gone on in "Tahiti" and he might not know all the details, but his hands are far from clean in the matter. It's not even an accusation, it's a reminder of the things Phil had gone through and Jasper's role in keeping the truth from him. Perhaps it's a fitting penance that he should have to experience something similar. But no, this is different. People will be hurt. People will die.

"So you plan to skip the interrogation and just extract information straight from my brain?" Jasper inquires, stalling. For what, he doesn't know. Stalling for the help that will never arrive? Stalling from the inevitable.

"Now, you see, that's how most people would do it. The thing of it is, you're going to resist. That's no secret," Pierce goes on to tell him. "Minds are really such fragile thing in the end, Agent Sitwell, and trying to pull something out of you while you're trying to keep it in is the kind of tug-of-war we can't afford. Forced extraction runs the risk of damaging you beyond repair."

Jasper narrows his eyes. Just what is Pierce playing at, then? It's clear they're going to be using this machine on him, since they've got him strapped into the fucking thing, but if not to extract information, then for what? And then it hits him. Pierce had said it himself: they'd make him a proper agent of HYDRA yet.

"I get it. Why waste time using force when you can get it all willingly?" Jasper says, his hands curling into fists despite himself.

"You have to admit, it's a much more solid plan," Pierce says with a smile. "I gain a valuable ally as well as whatever information you possess in regards to Nick Fury's plans for resistance."

"Mr. Secretary, in light of everything you've just told me, I'd like to invite you to, respectfully, go fuck yourself."

That gets a laugh out of Pierce, who shakes his head in what looks like genuine amusement. Jasper doesn't find any of it very funny, but then he supposes he's a bit biased in that regard. Pierce motions to someone standing behind him and he tenses at the sudden flurry of activity. They fit him with electrodes and IV lines and force him to bite down on a rubber mouth guard and if he'd had so much of a shred of hope of getting out of here, it's gone now.

"Try to relax, Sitwell. This is going to hurt some."

There's something being pressed to his head, to the sides of his face and a sound like a defibrillator being charged. The last thing he sees is Alexander Pierce's benevolently smiling face.

Jasper doesn't really know what to think of Phil Coulson. He's been with S.H.I.E.L.D. for all of three weeks when the man who'd recruited him decides to check up on his progress at the academy.

"So, I hear you're making absolutely no friends at all," Phil says conversationally.

Jasper shrugs as they walk across the lawn. "I keep to myself."

"Uh-huh," Phil hums. "And why is that?"

Jasper snorts. "Take a look around. This whole defenders of justice things isn't exactly my shtick."

"Then why did you agree when I asked you to come here?" Phil asks.

He falls silent at that, for once having nothing to say. He hasn't got an answer to that just yet. Maybe he'd thought it would be that fresh start he'd tried to have before, but so far he just feels like the unwanted stray cat that someone had brought home. So he keeps his hackles raised and his claws out because he'll be damned if he's going to take lip from some Captain America wannabe.

"Listen, not everyone here has a record as clean as their uniforms might lead you to believe," Phil tells him. "S.H.I.E.L.D. takes on all kinds."

"Excuse me if I don't take the word of a consummate boy scout," Jasper replies flatly.

"Oh? Is that what you think I am?" Phil asks him.

The man is smiling, his posture relaxed and friendly, but for the first time Jasper sees. Really sees. There's something dangerous about this man if you look close enough. But most people won't look close enough. They don't bother. Jasper just happens to know what to look for.

"What do you say we go grab a bite to eat and we can discuss—"

Phil looks down at his watch, or rather, where his watch usually is. Greeted only by his bare wrist, he stares, eyebrows raised. He only looks up when he hears a slight rattling noise. Jasper holds his watch aloft, shaking it slightly. So, he'd gone through a phase as a kid where he'd been really into magic and had practiced his sleight of hand night and day… who hadn't, right?

Most people, when confronted with a pickpocket, would be angry. They would frown and shout and demand their property back and threaten to call the authorities or worse. To Jasper's surprise, Phil does none of these things. Instead, he laughs.

"Oh, I like you," the agent says warmly.

Phil Coulson is a mystery, but as he hands the watch over, Jasper thinks Phil just might be a mystery he likes.

Jasper tastes blood when he comes to. His head hurts. Feels like it's buzzing full of bees. He shakes, panting for breath and shivering in the cool air of the basement level. He's still him, though. He's still all him. Or… mostly him, anyway. He thinks. There's a light being shined in his eyes, people hovering over him, checking vitals and prodding and poking him.

"Pupils are dilated," he hears one of them say. "Heart rate elevated."

"Looks like it wasn't enough. Should we contact Secretary Pierce?"

"No need. We're to continue to take it up, level by level, l until it does work."

"Well, it had better be quick. Barnes is due back in the hot seat."

Barnes. Barnes? Who's Barnes? Another agent, perhaps? Certainly Jasper isn't the first agent that they'd tried this on. There are bound to be others.

"Alright. Fire it up."

"The view's always better out here, out of the city," Jasper says, staring upward.

"Too much light pollution," Jemma agrees with a soft hum.

She squeezes his hand, staring up at the stars with him. It had been pure luck that Jasper's assignment had lead him to cross paths with Phil's team, but he isn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. It's not easy being in a relationship when she's a member of Phil Coulson's Flying Circus and he's got his own duties to worry about.

"I know that face," Jemma tuts.

He looks to her in surprise. "What face? I'm not making a face."

"Of course you are," Jemma corrects him. She presses in close to his side, giving his hand another coaxing squeeze. "Now what's the matter?"

He can't very well tell her what's the matter, can he? Because what's the matter is above her security clearance. What's the matter is that every time they're together, he can't shake the heavy chains of guilt weighing him down. He's in deep with this whole double agent thing—seven years deep. It's bad enough that he's got friends within S.H.I.E.L.D., but a girlfriend as well? It's Dangerous with a capital 'D.' He's done well when it's come to keeping his personal relationships limited, but Jemma Simmons is something else entirely.

It's irresponsible and foolish of him to have pursued her. If he's ever found out, if they ever go after her to get to him—

"Jasper?"

He blinks, turning his head to find her worried gaze on him. He shouldn't be with her. She deserves so much more than this. But he's only human. Selfishly, he can't stand the idea of letting her go. One day, though, he'll have to. For her own safety, he'll have to.

"Sorry," Jasper says. "I'm just thinking we'll have to get back soon."

Jemma's eyes are searching, still worried, but more sympathetic than anything now. Going back means saying goodbye as they both embark on separate assignments.

"Well, I think we can stay out here just a bit longer," Jemma says softly.

Her lips are cold against his when she kisses him, chilled by the winter air. He holds her close and kisses her back because this—

…because this…

…because this relationship provides an in. It allows him to keep tabs on Coulson and his team without attracting suspicion. It allows him to—

What?

No.

No.

That's not it at all.

That's not right.

…is it?

But it can't be because…

Because he…

Jemma.

…is a means to an end.

He wakes to the muffled sound of his own screams. The machine stops and he sags back against the chair, exhausted and disoriented. There's no way of telling how long they've been at this. It could be minutes. It could be hours. His gasps for breath sound more like sobs and he's so wrapped up in his own head that he barely notices the doctors and scientists hovering about. It hurts. It hurts like nothing he's ever experienced. He remembers, suddenly, Garrett's joke that Skye had done more in the field than he ever had… and he'd laugh if the idea weren't so terrible.

Jasper's grip is slipping. The thought angers him, that it's taking so little to unmoor him. But then, he'd never really been taught how to avoid brainwashing. He's got no way to defend himself other than to try to hold on to the facts.

He's an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

He swears loyalty to Nick Fury.

Hail HYDRA.

Jasper swears around the mouth guard, trying to shake his head but unable to because of the machine that's currently tearing apart whatever makes him who he is. The thought had come out of nowhere, but it's distinctly his. It's not as though they're planting these ideas and forcing him to repeat them; they're planting these core ideas and… tweaking him. Adjusting him until they're not ideas, but truths. They're not tearing him down and building him back up, simply reshaping what's already there. Somehow, that's worse.

It's so much worse.

He hears the machine firing up.

He squeezes his eyes shut.

He prays.

"You understand that this kind of mission can only end one way," Fury says.

Jasper turns his head to meet the director's gaze and is alarmed to find something like regret in the man's lone eye. So he looks down at his shoes before he nods, once.

"I understand, sir," he says. "I'm prepared."

"Are you?"

"Sir?" Jasper intones questioningly, looking up once again.

Fury shakes his head, staring out the window of his office.

"This isn't the kind of assignment you finish and write up," Fury tells him. "You're in it for years. You're in it until it's game over. There's only so long that you can keep this kind of ruse up and they're not the sort to let traitors escape. If they find you out, they will kill you."

"I'm prepared for that eventuality," Jasper repeats.

Fury snorts and they lapse into silence.

"You know, Phil Coulson started out as a gigantic pain in my ass," Fury tells him. "Don't get me wrong, he still is, but he's also one of the best damn agents I've got. Something tells me, if I asked him, he might say the same thing about you."

Jasper chooses not to answer, just nods in acknowledgement and lets silence take over once more. There's not much more that can be said now. He'll bide his time and play the part of loyal agent, all while fulfilling his true purpose of serving HYDRA. It had paid off, getting close to people like Fury and Coulson, making them grow to like him, to trust him. And now here's Nick Fury, trusting him with the fate of S.H.I.E.L.D. itself.

Yes, he'll follow Fury's orders. And when the time comes for them to come out of the shadows and into the light… he can only hope he's there to see the look on his face.

The process is repeated over and over. Jasper loses count of how many times, the pain blurring it all into one continuous stream of agony. It must have been some time though, because after he's brought back to consciousness on one occasion, they begin untethering him from the machine. There's a great deal of hurried conversation around him that he picks bits and pieces out of.

"—need another few sessions."

"It'll have to do for now—"

"—enough to temporarily—"

"After Barnes has—"

They're moving him, taking him somewhere else. There's a man standing in the corner. He's got a mask and a metal arm. They make eye contact briefly and Jasper shivers; his eyes are like ice. But he's carted off before he can give it much thought. They place him on a bed and someone instructs him to sleep… so he does.

When he wakes again, he's amazed at how much clearer his head feels. Everything had seemed so heavy and convoluted before, but now he feels light, freed from whatever had been weighing him down.

"Agent Sitwell. How are you feeling?"

Jasper sits up at the sound of Pierce's voice. "Better, sir. Thank you."

"I apologize for the rough treatment," Pierce says, eyeing him as he stands in the doorway. "But you understand it was necessary."

"Of course," Jasper agrees. "I allowed myself to be swayed by the enemy and that required correction."

Pierce looks pleased. And he should be, shouldn't he? After all, now that Jasper is free of Fury's influence, they can begin the real work here. He's been granted clarity, the ability to see what should have been in front of him all along. He was never working for S.H.I.E.L.D.; his loyalties had always been to HYDRA, to Pierce. Oh, Fury had made him think that he'd been of S.H.I.E.L.D., but no. No, this is where he belongs.

"Well, then," Pierce says, gesturing to the open doorway. "Now that we've got you all sorted, I think it's time we get to work. I've got a special assignment for you…"