Sitting in my quarters and hardly aware of the medical staff as they tended to my injuries, I stared at the trading cards in my hand, which were now tarnished by the blood of the man who had kept them in such pristine condition.

     "Agent Coulson is down," Fury announced in my ear, confirming what I already knew.

     "A medical team is on its way to your location," an agent immediately replied.

     "They're here. They called it."

     I closed my eyes against the tears that threatened to fall, only to open them again when the sight of Coulson's unblinking gaze flashed through my mind. When the medical team quietly excused themselves, I thanked them for their help, then stepped into the bathroom. With shaking hands, I set the cards on the counter and turned on the faucet.

     With the water running at an intolerably hot temperature, I scrubbed relentlessly at my hands, barely noticing the pain as I continued to wash away the blood that stained my fingers, even if it was now only a memory. Clawing at my nails even though I knew they were clean, I worked ceaselessly at my hands until my nerves were shocked numb and my skin was lobster-red.

     I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, my bloodshot eyes matching the color of my hands. Leaving the cards in their current condition, I slipped my gloves back over my hands and marched to the bridge. Rogers and Stark were already seated at the conference table, and as Fury walked up the stairs to join them, I pulled the trading cards out of my pocket.

     "These were in Agent Coulson's jacket," I said, my voice cold as I threw them onto the table.

     As Phil's blood smeared across the glass, I collapsed onto the chair next to Steve, "He said he wanted you to have them."

     Fury sighed and shook his head, "I guess he never did get you to sign them. We're dead in the air up here. Our communications, the location of the cube, Banner, Thor...I got nothing for you. I lost my one good eye. Maybe I had that coming."

     As Steve picked up one of the cards with his likeness on it, Fury admitted, "Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number, though, because I was playing something even riskier. There was an idea, Stark knows this, called the Avengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people, to see if they could become something more. To see if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea."

     I ran a hand through my hair and slumped against the table, watching as Stark carefully avoided Fury's gaze.

     "In heroes."

     Stark shot to his feet, froze for a moment, then abruptly left the room.

     "Well, it's an old-fashioned notion," Fury added, looking pointedly at Steve.

     Steve sighed, his entire body seeming to deflate as he got to his feet and followed after Stark.

     After a moment, I said, "I'm sorry, sir, I tried to—"

     "You did all you could, Romanoff. And for that, I am grateful," he replied. "Natasha's in the medbay with Barton. Said she wants to see you."

     I nodded and slowly got to my feet, wandering aimlessly until I finally reached the infirmary, where a staff member directed me to Agent Barton's room. When I found Natasha sitting next to Barton on the cot, I lightly rapped my knuckles against the window to get her attention.

     "We were just talking about you," she said with a small smile as the door slid aside.

     "All good things, I hope?" I replied, managing to reciprocate a half-hearted smile.

     She nodded, then gestured to her companion, "Ana, this is Clint. Clint, this is my little sister, Ana."

     "Pleasure to meet you," I said, shaking Barton's hand, "You know, now that you're not trying to kill us."

     He chuckled, "Believe me, the pleasure's all mine."

     Gesturing for me to sit in the desk chair before settling back on the cot, Natasha said, "Actually, Clint is the one who helped me escape the Black Widow program."

     "Ah. My explanation."

     She nodded, "Now seems as good a time as any."

     Sitting cross-legged on the chair, I gestured for her to continue.

     She took a deep breath, then began, "Not long before...Budapest, I was sent to kill Secretary Pierce—"

     "The head of the World Security Council?"

     She nodded, "Sure enough, S.H.I.E.L.D. caught wind of Dreykov's plan to have Pierce assassinated and sent Clint to eliminate the threat. In this case, me."

     "Obviously, that didn't happen."

     Natasha shook her head, "He saw something in me. Something I didn't even see in myself. So, rather than going through with his assignment, he suggested I defect from the program. Said I should join S.H.I.E.L.D. and do something good with my...unique skillset."

     "Something tells me S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't too enthusiastic about that idea."

     Clint barked out a laugh, "You got that right. One of Russia's greatest spies with access to the world's largest intelligence agency? Yeah, they weren't too eager."

     "So, they gave you an ultimatum," I gathered.

     Nastasha sighed, "I was tasked with assassinating Dreykov to prove my loyalty. When we learned he was in Budapest, Clint and I spent days tailing him. Tracking his movements. Memorizing his routine. I...I knew he would be at his most vulnerable when...when Antonia was with him."

     "You used her as bait," I whispered. "You knew he would have her brought to his study."

     "I'm not proud of it, сестра, but yes. We had to be sure he was there. And...and it just so happened that, on that day, you were the one assigned to her escort."

     I closed my eyes, my ears ringing from the blast of that long-ago explosion. When Nat's hands closed around mine, I opened my eyes to find her crouching in front of me.

     "I was forced to make a choice," she finally said, her voice trembling. "And for the past four years, I've had to live with the fact that my actions got you killed."

     She stared at the floor for a moment, then swiped a hand across her face and continued, "The only reason I...I was able to sleep at night, was because I knew you were free from Dreykov's control. That...that maybe death was better than the alternative."

     I snorted, "Better than completing mission after mission as a mindless killing machine? I'll say."

     Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair and said, "I understand, Natasha."

     "You do?"

     I nodded, "I do. You thought you were freeing both of us from the Red Room. But I'm gonna need some time. It's just...a lot to process, you know?"

     "Do I know? Did you see my face when you walked off the Quinjet?"

     I smirked, "Now that I think about it, you did look like you'd just seen a ghost."

     The sound that warbled from Natasha's lips was somewhere between a sob and laughter, and she lightly punched my shoulder as tears trickled down her face.

     "Shut up."

     "I love you, too, сестра," I smiled, blinking back my own tears as the room blurred around me.

     Looking at Clint over Natasha's shoulder, I said, "Thank you for giving my sister a second chance."

     He grinned, "Believe me, if she hadn't taken my deal, I'd be dead. So, I was really the one who got a second chance."

     "And don't you forget it," Natasha added.

     "Ana, are you still with your sister?" Agent Hill suddenly said in my ear.

     "Yes."

     "Fury needs you to locate Stark. He's hoping he'll have some insight as to where Loki might be."

     "Copy that."

     Getting to my feet, I sighed and said, "Well, kids, I've gotta run. Looks like our crazy uncle's gone missing, and I've been tasked with tracking him down."

     Natasha chuckled under her breath as I set out in search of the one person aboard this boat that I would rather not talk to. Given my current mental state, if Stark made so much as one wisecrack, he would end up needing a pair of iron teeth to go with his suit.

     I briefly considered stopping at what remained of Banner's laboratory, then thought better of it when I remembered Stark's reaction to Coulson's death. Sure enough, as I walked toward the chamber where Coulson lost his life, I heard yet another argument unfolding between Stark and Rogers.

     "He was an idiot," Stark claimed, though of whom, I did not know.

     "Why?" Steve asked. "For believing?"

     "For taking on Loki alone."

     My blood boiled as I realized he was talking about Coulson.

     "He was doing his job," Steve countered.

     "And he wasn't alone," I added as I marched into the room. "I did what I could to help, but—"

     "He was out of his league," Tony scoffed. "And so were you. You should have waited. You should have..."

     "What? We should have what?" I pressed when he faltered, but Stark did not reply.

     In a gentler voice, Steve said, "Sometimes there isn't a way out, Tony."

     Stark rolled his eyes, "Right, I've heard that before."

     "Is this the first time you lost a soldier?"

     "We are not soldiers," Stark snapped, his voice cracking as he rounded on Steve. "I am not marching to Fury's fife."

     "Neither are we!" I shouted in exasperation. "He's got the same blood on his hands that Loki does! But, unless you want Coulson's sacrifice to mean nothing, you need to pull your big boy pants on, because I am, quite frankly, sick of this pissing contest. Right now, we've just gotta put that behind us and get the job done, and as much as it pains me to say it, we need your help to do so."

     As I took a deep breath to prevent myself from hyperventilating, Stark's gaze drifted to the blood-stained wall where Coulson had spent his final moments. After a moment, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards, and there was something akin to admiration in his eyes when he turned to face me.

     "I may have been wrong about you, Romanoff. You're not such a tight-ass, after all," he said before nodding to Steve. "Unlike your friend, here."

     "Stark," I warned.

     He raised his hands and smiled, "I'm joking. I promise."

     "That's better."

     Steve, who was smiling behind his fist as he watched our exchange, brought our conversation back to the topic at hand, "Loki needs a power source. If we can put together a list—"

     "He made it personal," Tony suddenly said.

     "That's not the point."

     "That is the point," he insisted. "That's Loki's point. He hit us all right where we live. Why?"

     "To tear us apart," I answered.

     Tony nodded, "Yeah, divide and conquer is great, but he knows he has to take us out to win, right? That's what he wants. He wants to beat us, and he wants to be seen doing it."

     "He wants an audience," I muttered, beginning to catch on.

     "Right," Steve nodded. "We caught his act in Stuttgart."

     "Yeah, that's just previews," Stark replied, starting to pace as his mind worked. "This is opening night. And Loki, he's a full-tilt diva, right? He wants flowers, he wants parades. He wants a monument built to the skies with his name plastered..."

     Tony fell silent, then cursed, "Son of a bitch."

     "What is it?" Steve asked.

     "I know where he's going."

     My eyes widened, "Stark Tower."

     "You got it."

     As we rushed out of the detention chamber, I said, "Hey, Tony?"

     "Yeah?"

     "A full-tilt diva? Takes one to know one. Just saying."

     Steve wheezed with laughter as Stark stood frozen in place, stunned.

     Finally, he clapped me on the shoulder and said, "Yeah, we're gonna get along just fine."

     As Tony went to prepare his battered suit for the battle to come, I made my way back to the infirmary, with Steve in tow. As we approached the medbay, he grabbed my arm and I turned to face him.

     "Hey, I heard about what happened with Banner," he said. "Between that and witnessing Coulson's death, I need to know if you're up for this."

     "I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine," I replied with a small smile.

     He held my gaze for a moment, then nodded, "Glad to hear it."

     As we started forward once more, he added, "I was impressed with how you handled Banner. And Loki, for that matter."

     "Well, I had help."

     "Still, most would've run in the other direction. You didn't. I admire that. Glad to have you on the team."

     My face flushed, and as I rubbed the back of my neck, Steve tilted his head to one side, "Are you all right?"

     I nodded, though my voice was quiet as I explained, "Praise was something to be avoided in the Red Room. Granted, it wasn't easy to come by, but when it was earned, it...it often came with the unwanted...affections of Dreykov and his associates. And then, in the Air Force, my accomplishments were usually overshadowed by the ass...by the hecklers who were blinded by the fact that I'm a woman. So, long story short, praise makes me uncomfortable."

     Steve sighed, "I'm so sorry, Ana."

     Unsure of how to reply, I mumbled, "Thanks."

     "And I can assure you, I had nothing but good intentions."

     "I know that, Steve," I said with a small smile. "Besides, I don't think you have a bad bone in your body."

     This time, it was his face that turned red as he offered, "If it makes you more comfortable, I could just insult you, instead?"

     I snorted, "Could you, though?"

     "Probably not," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

     "That's what I thought," I said, elbowing his side. "Now, come on. Let's get the others."

     Making our way back to Barton's cell, the guard opened the door and Steve said, "Time to go."

     Natasha arched an eyebrow, "Go where?"

     "I'll tell you on the way," I answered.

     When Clint stepped out of the bathroom, Steve looked to Natasha, who nodded discreetly.

     Turning to Barton, Steve asked, "You got a suit?"

     "Yeah."

     "Then suit up."