In the beginning, there was a noise she could not quite identify, not for a very long time. The lull of heavy drugs pulled her senses under. Sounds were very important, though, in the absence of her sight. The drugs blinded her, leaving only the bitter cold, the smell of rust and salt coming from her own body, and the taste of copper in her mouth. Sound was important, it was the only sense she had left that told her anything useful. She listened, fighting through the heavy drugs. The sound was loud like explosions. No not quite explosions, like gunshots. Exactly like gunshots. There were too many for this to simply be one of the many disagreements that the people in the facility often had. No, this was all out war, and the men, seemed to be losing. Thick words spoken in a language she was only beginning to understand called out in distress. She listened more closely and heard her mother tongue being barked out. They were American. The simple thought of that left her reeling. America had sent troops to rescue her she was no diplomat's daughter or of any importance at all. Why would the government care about one lone American girl being stolen away? The door to the room she was held in grated against the floor loudly. Hurried heavy footsteps came towards her and she shuffled away as fast as she could, given that her hands and feet had been bound. She fell against the cold hard concrete, but continued to shuffle away. Words were barked at her, words she didn't understand. There was a time where she would have begged the person coming towards her to spare her what ever horror they planned. Years in captivity had taught that they had no humanity that she could appeal to. What ever plan they had was going to happen whether she begged or not.

A piercing pain stabbed through the back of her neck just where her spinal cord was. A siren call of a scream wailed threw her throat, and her body was no longer there, or so it felt. There was nothing but the sounds that tethered her to Earth, that proved they had not killed her.

"You are going to be magnificent," the voice was marred with a thick Russian accent that she had become able to understand well enough. Gunshots reigned in the very room and she was positive the man that had spoken to her was dead.

"Is she breathing?" a male with an American accent spoke.

"She's alive," a woman spoke back, her voice was louder than the male's, she was closer.

"Let's get her back to base then." There was a pause of sound before brief static sounded, "This is Agent Hawkeye, subject has been acquired."

More static, "Affirmative, head to the roof."

The posh conference room had every chair filled, each person waiting for the means of their summoning to come into the office and tell them what he wanted. One, Mr. Tony Stark was perhaps the most impatient of all the people in the room. He didn't do meetings. He paid people to attend meetings for him. Meetings were probably the biggest wastes of time he could think of. There were a million other things he could be doing, and the only thing he was doing at a meeting was losing money. The scientist and friend, Bruce Banner, beside him was very much on the same page, only his concern was not money. He had been working on a rather interesting project in the lab Tony had provided. The study, if done correctly, would successfully connect a prosthetic to the spinal cord and give it feeling. He was anxious to get back to his work, and anxious about whatever problem put him in this room. Beside him was a man of concerned curiosity. He had been called from Washington D.C. to New York in order to attend this meeting. The company he worked for didn't call meetings unless it was extremely important. This soldier, Steve Rogers, had been conditioned to worry over such things as the weal of his country. This was not due to any brainwashing, or severe training, it was simply the way had always been. Contrarily, the woman at his side was supremely uninterested. She was only here because she was called. She knew the nature of the situation whose name she'd been called in. The woman, Natasha Romanov, just didn't care, or at least that's what she wanted the people around her to believe. The man across from her new better. Clint Barton had known Natasha longer than anyone else in the room, he knew she was on edge, and he knew why. The meeting today was dragging up old memories. There was one in the ensemble missing, and there was no chair set for him. He was simply unreachable.

The boss, and orchestrator of this meeting walked into the room. The doors slid closed behind him, and his naturally scowling face was beheld by all there. He did not speak immediately, taking instead to walk around and set files in front of each member of the team assembled at the table. They looked down at the stack of papers curiously, waiting for some explanation. The boss, Director Fury, came back around to stand at the head of the table.

"I have gathered you all here because we have acquired what might be the world's greatest weapon," he spoke seriously. Tony raised an eyebrow at this, wondering why Fury would speak to him of the world's greatest weapon This was usually the kind of thing he had to go out of his way to find out, and here he was just handing him the information. Tony was the first to open the file and saw a picture of a young woman.

"A girl?" he questioned, incredulously. The others opened the file, curiosity over taking their skepticism.

"Lily Ann Hemlock," he nodded, touching the keypad in front of him, making a holographic monitors come up just above the table. An interactive version of the file right in front of them came up, "we found her in a research facility in an underground facility in Sakha, Russia. She was kidnapped from her home in the winter of 2010. Authorities originally believed that she had only been kidnapped, and she was presumed to be dead. In actuality, the Russian began testing a new serum they created for the perfect soldier. We do not know the details of this serums ability, but they had high expectations. They expected the serum would give her super strength, speed, and agility, along with enhanced mental ability."

"What does enhanced mental ability mean?" Bruce asked.

"Telepathy, Telekinesis, and a multitude of other things," Fury answered.

"How did they make it?"

"We don't know, but they seem to have been successful."

"Wait, wait," Steve called out, " this girl was stolen from her home, taken to Russia and held there for five years and no one did anything?"

"There were no leads, no one had anyway of knowing she was there." Fury replied

"So how'd you find out about her?" he countered

"Agent Romanov infiltrated a sister laboratory of theirs and found data on her existence and their plans."

"So did you take her back because she was an American citizen, or because she was useful," Tony questioned.

Fury sent a glare in his direction, but otherwise did not acknowledge his question, "She is highly volatile," as he spoke these words he pulled up a video feed that covered all of the monitors. The girl sat in a bright white room, "this was found in the data from the Russian facility."

The girl sat in the corner of the white room huddled into herself. The wall on the opposite side of her revealed a door as it slid open. A man in a lab coat, meandered slowly over to her. The girl began crying, pleading to be left alone. Natasha looked away from the video, focusing on a point on the wall, still she could hear. There was the tell-tale jingle of a belt, but then the girl's screams were matched by the man's, Natasha's eyes flicked back to the video and she watched as the man was consumed in in a red glow then he went out of existence. The girl's screams of terror continued and the room began to shake. Then the video cut out.

"Where did he go?" Bruce asked.

"Who cares?" Tony murmured.

"We don't know," Fury answered Bruce's question, "that facility is in complete ruin, and she was relocated to another. This type of reaction happens in high stress situations."

"Why are you bringing her here?" Steve asked.

"Because she needs to learn how to control her power, and we need to learn more about her. And she can't go home."

"When you say high stress situations…" Bruce began.

"I think you're familiar. We kept her on an empty island for a few years with a few experts, she's relatively stable. It seems through her own will power she's found a way to keep herself in check. She agreed to be a part of the Avengers. Rogers, I want you to help her get used to being back home."

"Me?" Steve asked confused.

"Fury, he's not even used to being back home." Tony interjected.

"He's right, that seems a bit counter-productive don't you think," Steve agreed.

"That was an order." Fury spoke, in a voice that did not quite yield to further questioning, "Romanov, you'll help."

The woman only nodded in response, looking straight ahead, with a very forced indifference.

"Stark, Banner, you're both in charge of figuring out what makes her tick. I want all the data you can compile. Barton, you know you're mission."

They all made sounds of assent, closing the files in front of them.

"Stay here," Fury ordered as he turned to leave the room, "Rogers, come with me."

Steve stood immediately following the Director out of the door, through the hall and to the elevator. He wonder what on Earth they were about to do, but thought it better not to question the situation. Steve had a basic understanding of Fury and his inner mental working. The super soldier would spend too much time in the dark. Sure enough, the moment the elevator door closed he spoke.

"I want you to introduce her to the others."

"Alright, but if you don't mind my asking….why me?" Steve questioned. Why choose him to help someone else get assimilated when he himself was still working on that very thing?

"Because you are the least alarming of all of them. Despite her title, she's kinda skittish." Fury explained.

"I bet," Steve sighed. It made sense though. Tony was a bit eccentric, Bruce had issues too similar to her, and Clint and Natasha were assassins. He seemed like the only sure fire choice.

The elevator opened to a rather small woman sitting on a marble bench in front of the elevator. She was bent over the journal in her lap, pencil in hand and all but flying across the paper. She seemed too enthralled to notice the two men who were walking up to her. Fury cleared his throat to catch her attention and she looked up. The woman somewhat startled Steve in her beauty. The picture in the file didn't do her justice. With her appearance came a bit of nostalgia. Her hair was done up in a style reminiscent of his own era, accompanied by a dress that was a bit short for the decade, stopping just above the knee but still styled in its likeness. She pushed up her glasses as she stood closing the journal.

"Lily, this is Steve Rogers," Fury introduced, " he'll be looking after you until you're adjusted."

Her eyes flicked to Steve and he noticed a certain tightening in her eyes for a fraction of second, before they softened and she offered him a shy smile. She held out her hand for a handshake, stepping forward a bit. Steve grasped her hand automatically looking her in the eye as he returned the smile.

"It's pleasure to meet you," she greeted, in a warm alto voice.

"The pleasure is mine," he returned.

"I'll leave you to it," Fury spoke leaving the two to their lonesome.

"So, where are you from?" Steve asked as he walked to the elevator.

"St. Louis," she answered.

"Hmm, I've never been," he admitted. The elevator opened and they stepped in.

"No reason to really go," she assured, not really allowing herself to think much about her hometown, she couldn't go back so what was the point.

"It was something in my day," he said nostalgically.

"So I've heard." she smiled fondly, thinking of what she knew on the history of the city.

"That's a first."

"I appreciate the past," she shrugged not feeling the need to further explain herself.

"I think we are gonna get along just fine, Lil," Steve chuckled to himself.

She looked up at him startled by the nickname. He met her gaze after a moment and frowned in concern.

"Do you prefer Lily, 'cause-"

"My mother used to call me Lil," she explained, "I've always liked it," she smiled to herself looking straight ahead again.

"Lil it is then," he resolved looking at the numbers overhead. Steve let the conversation falls into a companionable silence. She valued that, the fact that he didn't urge awkward small talk. It was unnecessary, and stressful, and she didn't do anything unless it was absolutely necessary. The elevator opened and Steve walked out first leading the way to the conference room. As the door slid open, they only saw Steve. His massive form thoroughly obstructed the small beauty. The moment he moved, there was an air of pleasant surprise in the room.

"She is adorable," Tony breathed, looking at her. Lily only raised an eyebrow. SHIELD had used a great deal of adjectives to describe her, "adorable" had never been one of them.

"Lil, that's Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov, and Clint Barton," he introduced gesturing to them respectively.

"Hi, I'm Lily, and I love long walks on the beach and multisyllable words," she presented with a small smile.

"Look at her, she is so precious," Tony gushed getting out of his seat and walking towards her, "she's shorter than me. I like her. She's my new favorite. Sorry Bruce."

"Oh it's fine," Bruce a shrugged then looked to address Lily, "You'll get used to his benevolence."

" I already have...It's kind of anodyne after the week I've had."

"See? She likes me too. We are best friends now it's officially."

"Tony, leave her alone," Steve rebuked, glaring at the man that had taken to draping an arm casually over the petite woman's shoulders. Tony only stuck his tongue out at him.

"He's fine," Lily assured, "I'm really not as bad as Fury thinks I am. I've learned to manage my anger. I've been in New York for about a month now, and well...no one's died."

"How do you like it?" Tony asked.

"I don't," she spoke truthfully, "I've never liked New York, there too many people, and the air's bad, but it's cozy I guess...in the sense that I've always liked small places."

"You get used to it. Before you know you'll be a well rounded city girl, hitting all the nightspots, meeting guys, and having adventures," Tony laughed.

"That's not really my scene, sorry Tony. I prefer adventures of the literary nature. I like to call myself a socially-capable-introvert."

"So what do you do for fun."

"I read, I write, I'm currently catching up on movies and T.V. shows." she offered, halfheartedly, knowing Tony Stark would find any of those things exceedingly diverting.

"You've gotta give me more to work with if we're gonna be best friends." Tony urged smiling at the lack of anything fun by his standards. Somehow it only served to make her more endearing.

"Well, I really like food," she offered as a last ditch effort to satisfy him.

"Are you suggesting I buy you lunch?" he asked.

"If we're best friends, then I'm not gonna say no." she agreed, happy that her love for stuffing her face was something he capitalized on.

"Not today,"Natasha spoke up, "You need to get your things in place at the apartment."

"Right, sorry," she looked genuinely upset by this turn of event, and she was. Food was simply sad to miss out on.

"Tomorrow then. Do you have a favorite food?"

"I really love fettuccine alfredo," she offered.

"Italian it is. I'll make reservations and we can gossip. How about noon? I'll send a car for you."

"Okay," she agreed.

"Great you have plans. C'mon Steve we're gonna need your help with the shelves." Natasha spoke up as she stood from her chair. The woman was stoic, however Lily knew that the rush to leave had little to do with Tony Stark and more to do with herself. Clint followed them out and they went to the apartment that the women shared. It was a nice space, especially for housing in New York. It was located at the very top of a building that SHIELD owned and used to quarter agents in the area. The more important you were the higher up you lived. The entirety of the top floor was theirs and the view was something Lily had come to love. Natasha had never given it much thought. It was just a giant window that opened up to a wide patio, that circled the entire building. Before Lily came along she simply had the windows on blackout, a setting where all four window walls were covered with elegant stainless steel shutters. With the girl there she had taken to opening them. Lily, overall, was an easy roommate to have. She usually sat quietly by the windows and read or wrote. Natasha had taken to watching a few movies with her. They spoke every once in a while, about trivial things though. Neither woman wanted to delve into their pasts to forge a closer friendship so they were companionable roommates.

Steve walked into the spacious apartment and found on that the spaces was rather divided. One half of the apartment was rather well put together, with a few books, and a display of weapons and things of the such, the other was a simple mountain if boxes both empty and full. He assumed the mess of boxes belonged to Lily, and upon further inspection he realized the filled boxes had books in them. The sat in front of a massive bookshelf that made up the division between the public area and Lily's bedroom. The bookshelf, was literally the wall, and it made a grand doorway. Neither woman was tall enough to get to the top shelves even with the step ladder. Once the books were all up, and assembled how she liked them, she settled down with her journal in her room.

"How long has she been here with you?" Steve asked Natasha.

"About a month." she answered, shrugging.

"What's she looking like?" he asked.

Natasha understood what he meant. People who go through things like she had were alway damaged, "She sticks to herself, and reads, or writes in that journal of hers. At night though, she has nightmares and she wakes up screaming. Compared to most though...she's doing pretty good."

"You call that pretty good?" Steve asked incredulously.

"Listen, Steve, you are looking after her because you're nice. She's living with me because I've been in the same situation. Trust me when I say she could be much worse, and you know it."

Steve thought to his friend that had been turned into a weapon and realized she was right. The girl seemed to have a good memory of her past and a solid moral code. She had escaped with more than some.

"She's no trouble at all, but she's depressed," Natasha murmured, "SHIELD's therapists and psychologists agree she doesn't need medication. She's grieving, so it's perfectly natural."

"Who died?" Steve asked, concerned that life was continuing to get worse for the young lady.

"She did." Natasha answered, her gaze holding a softness, Steve had never before seen. It disappeared shortly after it appeared and he couldn't shake the idea that Natasha was perhaps just as broken as the girl.