I blinked, "I—I'm sorry, am I being transferred?"

     Instead of answering, Fury said, "Captain Romanoff, I've read your file. I know you're the best the Air Force has to offer. Ask anyone around here, and they'll say the same."

     The director paused to consider his words, then continued, "But I also know that you once led a very different life. One that required an entirely different set of skills. And I can't help but wonder if you're wasting those skills by working with the Air Force."

     "Director, I joined the Air Force because there was no connection to my former life, not in spite of that. I'm not proud of who I was. I'm not proud of how many people I hurt. Of how many people I killed. But I was lucky enough to be given a second chance, and I've spent the last four years trying to right my wrongs. All I want is to leave the past where it belongs. Dead and buried. And, with all due respect, I'm not about to upend everything I've accomplished because you need another spy."

     Fury hummed under his breath and held my gaze, then asked, "Are you familiar with the Joint Dark Energy Mission Facility?"

     Caught off-guard by the sudden change of subject, I managed, "Yes. I've been stationed there several times."

     "Then you know what's inside."

     I nodded, and Fury planted his fists against the table, leaning forward.

     "Captain Romanoff, no more than two hours ago, that top-secret facility was breached. Not only did the infiltrator use some form of magic to turn several of my own agents against me, but he also used those agents to help him escape with the...with our item of interest. As of right now, given the severity of the coming threat and the hands that this item has fallen into, we are at war. You follow?"

     I nodded once more, my heart racing.

     Fury settled into the chair across from me, "Captain, you aren't the first Black Widow I've crossed paths with over the years. One of my current agents was raised in that program, and she's one of the best there is. If not the best."

     He went silent for a moment, then sighed and said, "Look, I've seen the files on the Black Widow program. I've heard the stories about the rigorous training sessions and brutal tests they put you through. It's enough to make my stomach turn. And I obviously can't imagine what you've been through, but I do know that your abilities were earned in blood, sweat, and tears. And I can only wonder if, unless you actually use your skills to compensate for the horrors that you were forced to carry out, all of the pain you suffered was for nothing."

     Running a hand through my hair, I stared down at my reflection in the table and blinked back tears.

     In a softer voice, Fury prompted, "There's only so much that you can do in the Air Force, Captain. If you truly want to right your wrongs, if you truly want to make a difference, then this is the way to do it."

     With a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth and hope sparking a small fire in my heart for the first time, I asked, "When do I start?"

     Fury smirked, "Come with me."

...

     After gathering what few possessions I'd collected over the past four years, I was escorted to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters and assigned new lodgings. According to Fury, I would maintain my ranking with the Air Force, giving me the option to return to my former occupation at any time once this assignment was completed.

     "But, a change of clothing will be required," he added, gesturing to my jacket. "Can't run a covert operation if my agents have their names plastered to their chests. You'll find your new uniform in the closet."

     Once I was alone, I dropped my backpack onto the bed and closed the door before stripping out of my clothes. Standing in my undergarments, I pulled my new uniform out of the closet and grimaced. A black jumpsuit. One that was painfully similar to the jumpsuit I wore while under Dreykov's control.

     You're with the right people now. It'll be different this time, I thought to myself as I stared at the S.H.I.E.L.D. emblems on the shoulders of my uniform.

     Sighing, I pulled the form-fitting uniform over my waist and slid my arms into the sleeves, the smooth fabric hugging every curve. As I raised the zipper, my breath caught in my throat, and I closed my eyes to ward off an impending panic attack. After taking several deep breaths, I managed to fasten a utility belt across my hips and finished lacing my work boots. Pulling on a pair of fingerless gloves, I turned to the weapons locker.

     I smiled in spite of myself as my gaze trailed over the assorted artillery and immediately selected a 9mm Glock, along with its accompanying holster, as the pistol had become my weapon of choice during my training in the Red Room. After securing the holster to my thigh, I tested the weight of several different knives before sheathing one in each boot, where they would remain hidden until they were needed.

     As I twisted my hair into a bun, someone knocked on the door and said, "Agent Romanoff?"

     "Come in."

     I turned to find a woman in her mid-thirties with dark hair and weary eyes standing in the doorway.

     "Maria Hill."

     "Nice to meet you."

     "Likewise. Fury wants to see you."

     I nodded and followed Agent Hill to the command center, where Fury was currently arguing with the World Security Council, a group of politicians who oversaw S.H.I.E.L.D.'s actions and represented several of Earth's most powerful countries.

     "This is out of line, Director," Gideon Malick, a senior member of the council claimed. "You're dealing with forces you can't control."

     "You ever been in a war, Councilman? In a firefight?" Fury countered, unfazed. "Did you feel an overabundance of control?"

     "You're saying that this Asgard is declaring war on our planet?"

     "Not Asgard. Loki."

     My eyes widened. Loki? As in the Norse God? Fury had failed to mention I would be dealing with mythological deities.

     "He can't be working alone," Pamela Hawley, the representative for Britain, argued. "What about the other one? His brother."

     "Our intelligence says Thor is not a hostile, but he's worlds away. We can't depend on him to help, either. It's up to us."

     "Which is why you should be focusing on Phase Two," Malick urged as Fury sighed. "It was designed for exactly this—"

     "Phase Two isn't ready. Our enemy is. We need a response team."

     "The Avengers Initiative was shut down."

     "This isn't about the Avengers."

     "We've seen the list. You're running the world's greatest covert security network, and you're going to leave the fate of the human race to a handful of freaks."

     My hands twitched at the councilman's choice of words, but I remained on the threshold as Fury replied, "I'm not leaving anything to anyone. We need a response team. These people may be isolated, unbalanced even, but I believe with the right push they can be exactly what we need."

     Hawley arched an eyebrow, "You believe?"

     "War isn't won by sentiment, Director," Malick stated.

     "No," Fury conceded. "It's won by soldiers."

     Ending the transmission, Fury shook his head and turned on his heel.

     Marching past me, he said, "Let's go find our next recruit."

...

     As I followed Fury into the gym, which appeared to have gone untouched by time since the 1940s, the sound of fists hitting leather echoed through the air.

     Strolling through the storage room, Fury entered the main gym and addressed someone out of view, "Trouble sleeping?"

     "I slept for seventy years, sir. I think I've had my fill," a man's voice replied, and when I walked around the corner, my jaw dropped.

     Steve Rogers? The Captain America?

     Remaining several paces behind Fury, I took a moment to collect myself and made a mental note to ask the director for a heads-up the next time he planned on introducing me to someone as legendary as Captain freaking America.

     Clasping my hands behind my back and keeping my expression neutral, I caught up with Fury, who said, "Then you should be out, celebrating, seeing the world."

     Stepping away from the punching bag and putting it out of its misery, Rogers turned away from Fury and unwrapped the boxing tape that was wound around his hands.

     "When I went under, the world was at war," he said. "I wake up, they say we won. They didn't say what we lost."

     "We've made some mistakes along the way," Fury agreed. "Some, very recently."

     Rogers noticed the folder in Fury's hands and sighed, then glanced in my direction.

     "Pardon me, Miss. I don't think we've been introduced," he said, offering his hand. "Steve Rogers. Formerly of the Hundred-and-Seventh Infantry Regiment. Though I always preferred the Howling Commandos."

     "Anastasia Romanoff. Captain and test pilot for the U.S. Air Force," I replied, my mouth quirking with amusement as I shook his hand. "How did you know?"

     He smiled and shrugged, "I can always tell."

     I chuckled, "Well, it's an honor, Captain."

     "Call me Steve. And the pleasure's mine."

     Fury cleared his throat and gestured not-so-subtly to the folder in his hands.

     Steve sighed once more and asked, "Are you here with a mission, sir?"

     "I am."

     "Trying to get me back in the world?"

     "Trying to save it."

     Fury opened the folder and passed it to Steve, who scowled as his eyes fell upon the Tesseract's file.

     "HYDRA's secret weapon."

     Fury nodded, "Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you. He thought what we think. The Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That's something the world sorely needs."

     Returning the file, Steve asked, "Who took it from you?"

     "He's called Loki. He's not from around here. There's a lot we'll have to bring you up to speed on if you're in. The world has gotten even stranger than you already know."

     Steve scoffed, "At this point, I doubt anything would surprise me."

     "Ten bucks says you're wrong. There's a debriefing packet waiting for you back at your apartment."

      Rather than replying, Steve grabbed his gym bag and returned the equipment he had borrowed to the storage room before heading toward the exit.

     "Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know?" Fury pressed as he followed Rogers.

     Without turning around, Steve answered, "You should have left it in the ocean."

     As the door closed behind the captain, I turned to Fury, "You think he's gonna help?"

     The director nodded, "I know he's going to. Meet him at the helipad tomorrow morning. You'll be his escort to D.C. Agent Hill will send you the flight information."

     "Yes, sir."

     "Plainclothes. We don't want to attract any unnecessary attention."

     "Yes, sir."

     The next morning, I braided my hair and quickly dressed in jeans, a plain leather jacket, and white t-shirt emblazoned with the symbol of Queen before taking an elevator to the landing pad. Ducking inside the traffic control tower, I found someone already waiting for me. Though he appeared to be an agent, with his kind face and warm eyes, I half-expected the man to introduce himself as a teacher or librarian.

     Instead, in a quiet voice that matched his demeanor, he said, "Agent Phil Coulson. I've heard a lot about you, Miss Romanoff. Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

     "And it's nice to meet you, as well."

     "Are you part of the escort?"

     "Yes, sir."

     He smiled, "No need to call me 'sir'. Coulson is fine. Or Phil, if you'd like."

     I returned the smile, "Thanks. My friends call me Ana. Or Stacy. Whichever you prefer."

     When the elevator pinged, we turned in unison and stepped outside to meet Captain Rogers, whose expression was a mixture of reluctance and begrudging amusement.

     "Guess Fury knew I'd be coming," he said, nodding toward the Quinjet sitting on the tarmac.

     "He had a feeling," I replied, and Steve shook his head.

     Once Coulson introduced himself to Rogers, he gestured for us to board the plane.

     "Lady's first," Steve said, and I nodded my thanks, though my past likely prohibited me from ever qualifying as a lady.

     As Coulson perched in the gunner seat, I chose the chair closest to the cockpit and strapped myself in. Even as the engines roared to life and the Quinjet's landing gear left the pavement, my stomach churned and my hands instinctively double-checked my harness. I closed my eyes for a moment but opened them again when the darkness only increased my nausea.

     "A pilot who's afraid of flying?" Steve mused as he sat beside me.

     "Only when I'm the passenger," I replied, swallowing hard. "Guess it's a control thing."

     Steve hummed quietly and nodded.

     After several minutes passed in silence, he said, "Can I ask you something, Miss Romanoff?"

     "Please, call me Anastasia. And yes, you may."

     "All right," he nodded, falling silent for a moment as he considered his next words. "Why does Fury have the best pilot in the Air Force doing busywork for S.H.I.E.L.D.? Surely, he didn't ask you to leave your station just to escort me from New York to D.C."

     I stared down at the floor for a short while, unsure of what to say or how to say it.

     "You don't have to answer, if you don't want to," he quickly added, but I waved my hand dismissively.

     "No, it's fine. It's just..." I sighed. "I wasn't always a pilot."

     Holding his gaze, I asked, "Are you familiar with the Black Widow program?"

     "Yes, I've heard of...Oh. Oh. Were you—"

     With a nod, I heard myself say, "When I was four years old, I was taken from my family and indoctrinated into the Black Widow program, along with my two sisters. And, up until four years ago, I was the Black Widow. The best assassin the Red Room had to offer. In fact, I was so good at killing that I was given my own callsign. The Winter Widow. I destroyed the lives of thousands without a hint of remorse. Ice in my veins and cold bodies in my wake to prove it."

     "What happened?" Steve asked in a quiet voice that was devoid of judgment.

     "One of my missions went horribly wrong and I was nearly killed. My training kept me alive long enough to receive life-saving care. I was unconscious for most of my recovery process, but when I woke, I underwent months of physical therapy and psychological reconditioning, as traces of my training still lingered in my mind. Eventually, I was given the option of joining the U.S. Military. Seeing as the Air Force required the least of my abilities from the Red Room, I joined and became a pilot."

     I scoffed, "And yet, here I am, right back in the life I've worked so hard to put behind me."

     "Did you—"

     "Yes, I tried to decline Fury's offer. But he was very persuasive."

     Steve snorted derisively, then ran a hand through his hair and asked, "Do you remember your family?"

     "Just flashes. I remember my father's bellowing laugh. You could hear it the next block down. I remember my mother's voice, stern but loving. And my sisters. My older sister, Natasha, had red hair, but she decided to dye it blue one summer. And my twin sister, Yelena. She always had a bruised knee or scraped bloodied elbow. One night, we were chasing fireflies through our backyard and caught one in a jar. We released it after a while, but I remember the golden light reflecting in my sisters' eyes."

     A small smile crept across Steve's face, though his eyes were solemn as he asked, "Do you know what happened to them?"

     I shook my head, "As far as I know, my sisters are still under Dreykov's control. And I don't even know what my parents are doing, or where they are, for that matter."

     "I'm sorry."

     I shrugged and flicked a tear from my cheek as I turned away. I heard Steve sigh quietly before grabbing the datapad sitting next to him and opening the first file.

     "We're about forty minutes out from home base, sir," the pilot said.

     As Coulson removed his headset and hopped out of the gunner seat, Rogers said, "So, this Dr. Banner was trying to replicate the serum they used on me?"

     Coulson nodded, "A lot of people were. You were the world's first superhero. Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine's original formula."

     "Didn't really go his way, did it?" Steve muttered as he watched Banner's counterpart, the Hulk, destroy everything in his path.

     "Not so much. When he's not that thing, though, the guy's like a Stephen Hawking."

     When Steve arched an eyebrow, clearly unaware of who Stephen Hawking was, Coulson said, "He's like a smart person."

     As Rogers nodded his understanding, Coulson added, "I gotta say, it's an honor to meet you officially. I've sort of met you. I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping."

     Glancing in my direction, Coulson noticed my eyebrows shooting toward my forehead and quickly clarified, "I mean, I was present while you were unconscious from the ice. You know, it's really just a huge honor to have you on board this—"

     "I hope I'm the man for the job," Steve politely interjected, putting an end to Coulson's rambling.

     "Oh, you are. Absolutely," Coulson immediately reassured the captain. "We made some modifications to the uniform. I had a little design input."

     "The uniform? Aren't the stars and stripes a little...old-fashioned?"

     "With everything that's happening, and the things that are about to come to light, people might just need a little old-fashioned."

     When I moved to stand behind the pilot, a heavily modified aircraft carrier appeared in the distance, and the Quinjet quickly descended toward the moving runway. Shortly after, a Landing Signal Officer guided us onto the tarmac, and I exhaled with relief as the Quinjet touched down upon the asphalt.

     "Stow the captain's gear," Coulson instructed one of the crew members as the main ramp lowered.

     He nodded, "Yes, sir."

     Walking behind Coulson, I heard him say, "Agent Romanoff, Captain Rogers."

     Initially, I had assumed he was trying to get our attention, but then I saw her.

     Pale skin. Red hair. The corner of her mouth turned upward with unspoken words that could cut like the sharpest knife before stitching you back together. And an endless reserve of determination and sarcastic wit in her eyes.

     Though I had not been given the privilege of watching my sisters come of age, I knew who stood before me even as our eyes met. I knew even as her mouth opened and a soft gasp split the air. I knew even as my lips quivered and my voice trembled with the sound of her name.

     "Наташа."

     Natasha.