AN: Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I'm so glad you guys liked the first part. Here's Part Two!

By the next time he met the girl, the only thing Coulson'd been able to find out about her was that it was next to impossible to find anything about her. They hadn't even had a picture to go off of, and it was only because of his and Natasha's great memories that they could even start a search. Coulson had made sure that all hits were streamed directly to him, but every one turned out to be a false alert. Coulson knew it would take time, but even he was running short of patience seven months later, when a hit showed up in northern Maine, southwest of a town called Dover-Foxcroft.

In his office at a SHIELD base in southern Vermont, Coulson clicked on the link, feeling his hopes rise despite the past failures. As he examined the fuzzy photo, those hopes did a full-out front handspring. It was her. She looked older than before, not surprising considering the time that had passed, and she was wearing a sweater with black leggings, but it was unmistakably the girl from the mission. Sending an order to pinpoint the location and track her, Coulson headed to the aircraft hangar.

Watching the helicopter soar away, Coulson put an ear to his comms device. "Okay, where is she?" A voice crackled back at him.

Twenty minutes ago she headed to a point five minutes west of you before dropping off the grid. Start there.

"Copy that." Turning left, Coulson started walking. Disappearing into the tree line, he kept his eyes peeled, looking for any sign of the girl. For a while there was nothing, but suddenly Coulson reached a gap in the forest and stepped into a tiny clearing that definitely hadn't been there thirty minutes ago.

Tree stumps littered the area, their upper halves lying crushed on the forest floor. The ground was scorched and some of the trunks were still smoking. Animal prints were visible in the churned-up earth, a strange mix of big cat and, was that goat? A fine yellow powder coated a spot in the middle. Most worrying of all, Coulson could see traces of a person stumbling out of the clearing, crushing shrubs and breaking branches. Jogging quickly, he followed the trail.

Racing through the woods, Coulson sheathed his gun in favor of finding his first aid kit. Judging by the drunken course and the number of broken branches, the girl was probably seriously injured. She'd need help, and this time, he'd make sure he brought her in.

Noticing a lemon-yellow flash between the trees, he sped up, before stopping abruptly. He stared at the girl, who was brandishing a steel pole at him, eyes murderous. Raising his hands, he stepped back. "It's okay. I'm here to help."

"Who are you?"

He frowned. "Don't you remember?" At her confused look, he elaborated. "Last August, my partner and I met you in an office building in upstate New York, a cover for a crime ring. You left before we could talk properly." After a moment, her eyes widened with recognition, and the dangerous edge faded away.

"Right. You're the government guy. With the red-haired serious woman."

"Yes," Coulson replied, nodding.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

The girl raised her eyebrow, surprised. "Why me?"

"You're a mystery. We wanted to know more about you."

"We," the girl repeated. She started backing up, only to fall as her left leg gave out. Coulson made to step forward, but she raised the metal stick at him. Looking her over, he noticed the way she held her leg, as well as a gash on her right shoulder, covered with a strip of her sweater's hem. She started talking again, and Coulson looked back at her face. "Let me guess, 'we' is your agency, your boss."

"Yes." Coulson answered honestly, "but we don't want to hurt you. We just want to know more, and help you."

The girl gave a sharp laugh. "Mr. Coulson, in my experience, those two things don't go together."

Coulson kept pushing. "You need help. Your leg is hurt and you're bleeding. Let me help."

"No. You're not coming near me." A hard tone rang in her voice, leaving no room for argument. She stopped for a moment, then added, "If you really want to help me, throw me the first aid kit and back up."

He did. Keeping her eyes fixed on him, she rifled through it, pulling out two long cloth bandages and fasteners. She wrapped one tightly around her leg and the other across her shoulder, then, gripping a low branch, pulled herself up. When Coulson went to move forward, she stopped him with a glare. Reaching back down, she picked up the kit and threw it back to him. Pointing, she told him, "Stay there," and began backing away, limping heavily.

Coulson couldn't help himself. "Wait!"

She stopped. "What?"

He waffled for a moment, then finally just sighed. "Do you have anywhere to go?"

"Yes."

"Can you get there? Today, I mean." She regarded him, calculating.

"Yes."

"Okay. I'll let you go, and trust you'll be okay for now, but we will be keeping an eye on you."

The girl smiled then, slightly sad, slightly amused, and a bit condescending. "Mr. Coulson, three things. First, you couldn't stop me from leaving anyway. Second, I'd like to see you try to keep up with me. And third," she paused. "Thanks. You're not half-bad for a government man." Then she turned and hobbled away, glancing back repeatedly, until she was out of sight. Coulson waited five minutes, then headed back the way he came, radioing for the chopper. As it soared into sight, he couldn't help shaking his head. All that, and he still hadn't gotten her name.