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The view in my new room was nothing but trees, and in the far, far distance was city and ocean. But my eyes weren't focused on the view outside my window. They were focused on the laptop sitting open on my desk.

Nat sat at the keyboard, fingers flying faster than I could track. I was plopped nervously on the bed beside Wanda, while Steve sat on the surface of the desk with his arms folded while he waited.

I tried not to pay him much attention. And I tried not to pay Loki, who was leaned against the wall across from me, much attention either.

"Strucker was good," Nat said breathily as she eyed the computer screen, "Laid low pretty much all his life."

"I don't understand," Wanda began, her Sokovian accent thick, "You plan to find all there is to know about Strucker on the internet? With just a little laptop?"

"People leave trails, Wanda," Natasha explained, just as her lips peeled into a grin and she opened up a page, "Trails that people like me are specially equipped to follow. Trails that connect what people like Strucker don't want connected."

"Take it you found something?" I asked, hope burning hot in my chest.

"Looks like our friend Strucker spent a lot of time throughout the eighties and nineties in New York, in the company of one Bram Van Leer," she said, the light of the laptop screen illuminating her eyes.

"Does the name mean anything to anyone?" I questioned, looking pointedly between Steve and Wanda.

"Never heard of him," Steve answered apologetically.

Wanda shook her head, wearing the same sorry expression as Steve.

I deflated a little. Enough for Natasha to notice.

"Hey, chin up," she said, "Don't lose faith in me." She turned next to look up at Steve, "Remember all that fun you and I had, airing out S.H.I.E.L.D.'s dirty laundry for all the world to see?"

Steve smiled gently, nodding.

"Just so happens, Van Leer and Strucker surfaced a lot together when I combed the leaked data," she explained, her fingers flying, "Seems a certain project that was started in the eighties also makes an appearance in the data."

I grinned widely, clasping my hands together and leaning forward. My heart drummed against my chest, and I swore that everyone could hear it.

"Seems Loki's scepter wasn't the first time Strucker tried his hand in human experimentation," Nat said, scrolling through text on the computer, "It looks like a group called CELS was founded as a branch of HYRDA to do just that. Headed by—Guess who?"

"Van Leer and Strucker," I finished. I let the hope in my chest flare. This was actually going to go somewhere. Mean something.

"Looks like Strucker dropped out of CELS in the late nineties, and the program was relocated."

"Where?"

"Not sure," Nat said, biting the inside of her cheek.

Nerves racked my chest. Please tell me this wasn't all for nothing. Please tell me we hadn't just hit a dead end.

"So do we go after CELS?" Steve asked, "Van Leer? How do we know this has any ties to you?"

"We don't," I answered firmly, "I've said from the beginning that this is a long shot. But I was born around ninety-three, in New York. That's a little bit too much of a coincidence, don't you think?"

"And how do we plan on locating CELS?" Loki queried suddenly, and I turned my gaze on him. He seemed to be genuinely interested in what was going on. He likely wanted answers just as badly as I did.

Nat suddenly pumped her fist in the air, causing Steve to jolt. I bit back a laugh at his jumpiness, instead turning to Natasha.

"What is it?"

"You can all get on your knees and worship me now. I'm a pure genius," she smiled.

"Oh for God's sake, Natasha," Steve rolled his eyes.

"Hold your horses, Steven," Nat said, swivelling in her chair to face the rest of us. "We're going to be making an appearance at the Annevelinks Fall Gala. In the Netherlands."

"You found him," I didn't ask her. I knew better than to ask her. I should've known better than to doubt her. However briefly. Of course she'd found him.

"The Annevelinks are throwing a Gala to draw wealthy investors for a company by the name of Trutex, which they themselves are huge investors in," Nat explained, closing her laptop, "Took me about two seconds to find out that Trutex is just a cover to bring in money—"

"For CELS," I finished excitedly.

Nat nodded, "Pack your bags and brush up on your Dutch, ladies and gents. We're going to Holland."

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I turned off the water to the shower, shaking out my wet curls as I stepped out. Warmth enveloped me as I wrapped myself in a bathrobe. The cool of my room was a stark contrast to the hot steam in the bathroom, and a shiver crawled down my spine.

On my bed, a bag was packed. The sun was cresting the treeline, dipping below the horizon and splashing a buttery orange glow over my walls.

We were leaving for the Netherlands first thing in the morning. And then what? Hopefully answers.

I jumped at the sound of my door closing, whirling around. I hadn't even heard him open it. And thank God I was still wearing that bathrobe.

"Uh? Privacy? Please?" I flailed my hands uselessly.

Loki flashed a smile that dripped with arrogance. "This is indeed a pleasant surprise."

"That you'd find me in my room, of all places?" I shot back sarcastically, folding my arms self-consciously over my chest.

He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, leaning against the door. "Darling, you really ought not be so concerned. I've seen it all before."

Heat crept up the back of my neck as I stared him down. "What do you want?" I asked flatly.

His smile faded a little. "You've gotten your hopes up, dear, I can see that. I only wanted to ensure that you didn't stake too much on this Van Leer character having all the answers you seek. We wouldn't want a repeat of what happened when you queried your father for answers."

My covered scars prickled, and I rolled out my shoulders. "I'm not a child, Loki. I don't need to be instructed, warned, lead around by the hand. I can fend for myself."

"Clearly," he said, in a tone that made it seem both a compliment, and an insult. He kicked off the wall, striding toward me. "And I am plenty aware that you aren't a child, Alivia."

My name from his mouth always sent my heart into a frenzy. He so often resorted to stupid nicknames that caused heat to creep into my face, but hearing my name? That was different.

He lingered by the foot of my bed, and I watched him warily.

"Is that all?" I raised my brows, asking expectantly.

"Well—"

"Of course," I rolled my eyes, "There's always more with you."

"You know me too well, love," he smiled, before taking on a more serious tone, "Tell me, have you engaged any further with Rogers?"

This time, my lips flickered into a smile. I took a step toward him, peering up to meet his gaze as I shook my head and laughed. "Why do you care?"

He looked at me darkly, a strange heat in his eyes.

"You know why."

"Do I?" I teased, "I don't think I do. Last I heard I was nothing more than a distraction?"

"A distraction? Bold assumption," he took a step toward me, closing the remaining distance that separated us, "Alivia, you're my distraction. And mine alone. Not a distraction for others to partake in."

"That so?" I lifted my brows, "Does that extend to you, as well?"

"Worried another woman has caught my interest? Jealous, perhaps?"

I shook my head, tightening my folded arms as heat collected in my cheeks. He laughed darkly before I could answer.

"Ooh," he winced, "You certainly are."

"That's rich coming from you," I bit back.

"Would it please you to hear that I'm only interested in distracting myself with one woman?"

"I've heard it from you before," I smiled wickedly, "What did you say? Witty, cold, perfect? I've eyes only for—"

"That's enough," he said lowly, but a smile curled at his lips, "Quiet now."

"Kinda starting to want you to make me," I said daringly, and his smile only widened.

His hands trailed up my thighs from behind, travelling up my back, shoulders, and neck. His fingers threaded through my hair, and he pulled, tipping my head back and exposing my throat to his lips. He pulled me in close, trailing his lips agonizingly softly up the length of my neck, and pausing at my ear.

His breath was hot against my skin when he said, "Maybe ask Rogers."

My lips peeled into a grin, as he let me go, and stalked out of my room.

He was definitely jealous. And I was loving it.

"Maybe I will," I called after him.

He froze in the doorframe, not turning to face me. His shoulders were stiff and his neck straight. He let out a deep sigh.

"You're too provocative for your own good, you know that?" His voice was low and heady.

There was a click of a lock sliding into place. Then he turned to me with a smirk that curled my toes.

"On second thought," he began, "Perhaps I will have to make you quiet, pet."

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