Natasha woke up with a start in a hospital bed.

It took her only a second to go from foggy sleep to being wide awake. It was part of her training, something that came to her naturally.

Daylight was filtering through the half-closed blinds and she saw dust particles dancing in the air.

Her throat was dry and a flash of pain erupted behind her eyes when she turned her head. She tried moving her arms and legs. Everything was working. Good. She just felt incredibly sore. Despite her sedated sleep, she couldn't shake the tiredness and all she wanted now was to crawl back under the thin cover and sleep. Sleep for a long time.

Instead she sat up straight with a slow exhale, pressing her teeth together, and threw her cover off. They had put her into one of those ugly, uncomfortable hospital gowns, she noticed with dismay.

Tugging on the side of it, she revealed a bandaged right thigh. They had given her stitches last night, or was it this morning? She couldn't remember exactly, it was all a blur to her. She touched the bandaged area. The wound didn't feel painful, it was more like a thudding pressure.

"I need to stop getting shot" she mumbled to herself, red hair falling messily in her face.

She heard voices outside in the hallway, then the door flew open. Agent Hill walked in, alone. "Ah, good, you're up."

Natasha gave her an annoyed look. She respected Maria, but that woman could be difficult to deal with, especially after her outburst last night in the car. She was sure the feeling was mutual. Natasha was used to doing things her way, which clashed with Maria being a stickler to rules and policies.

Agent Hill sure liked having everything in control, Natasha thought. She might make a fine Nick Fury Jr. one day.

"The doc told me that you got lucky. The bullet only grazed your leg." Hill stepped next to her. She looked down at her with a neutral expression. She had her emotions back in check, Natasha noticed. There was no trace of the anger from last night on her face.

"It's nothing." Natasha swung her legs out of the bed.

"Well," Maria answered, stepping aside to giver her some room. "Take it easy either way. Nick got the files, but he really wants a word with you. I told him to wait until tomorrow, since you are still recovering."

"I said I'm fine. I can see him right now." Natasha was getting annoyed again. Maria had a talent to do that. She just kept rubbing her the wrong the way, especially right this second.

"Just take the evening off. You might want to rest a bit." Agent Hill looked at her. "By the way, he's extremely pissed."

"What else is new?" Natasha tested the strength of her legs, they felt good enough to hold her up.

"You will have to explain what happened last night. Also, I had some of your clothes brought in, they are in the closet. An SUV is waiting for you in the parking lot, whenever you feel strong enough to leave." Maria stepped back to the door and put her hand on the handle. "We expect you in the West Office tomorrow at nine." She turned and left on that note.

Natasha glared silently at the closed door. Not that she had expected a Thank You, she knew the mission had gone sour, but she didn't expect this crap either.

She put on her clothes, checked out of her room and hailed a cab.

03:35 - Parkside Apartment Complex

A metallic arm was slowly crushing his throat. David Julien desperately pawed at hit, kicking out, thrashing, but the grip stayed hard. "Please..." he croaked, craning his neck to see what was holding him in place.

Two dark, indifferent eyes looked back at him.

He had been sleeping in his bed, when he was suddenly hauled out and thrown across his bedroom. He was confused and utterly scared, still shaking off the foggy remnants of his sleep. He looked into his attacker's face.

Oh god.

He recognized it. It was the man from the Helicarrier disaster, the guy who everyone was calling the Winter Soldier.

David gasped for air, as the grip ever tightened. He felt tendons ripping inside his throat. "What... you...?" was all he was able to get out. Tears started streaming down his face, he wanted to plead for his life, but couldn't form the words.

The Winter Soldier cocked his head at him. "I need access to a file. Can you do that?" he asked him nonchalant. As if asking asking what the weather report for tomorrow looked like.

David's last bit of air was cut off, when a thumb pressed right under adams apple. Immediately, wild panic settled in, he thrashed out his legs, clawing at the hand in sheer terror, fighting for his life.

The Soldier only looked on, with mild curiosity. David's vision was turning black. At last, he started nodding as fervently as he could. When suddenly, he could breath again, as he fell to the floor. He filled his lungs with big gulps of air. A hand grabbed him painfully by his hair and dragged over to his work station, where he was roughly thrown into his chair.

The Winter Soldier stepped behind him, drawing a knife, holding it against his throat.

"Pull up information on Natasha Romanoff."

David trembled. "A-agent Romanoff?" His throat was barely working, radiating blazing hot pain and it blurred his vision. The knife began cutting into his skin. His hands flew over the keyboard, entering all security passcodes that popped up. Tears still streaming freely. He wouldn't be able to access her whole file, not from his home. The most important parts were stored only within the SHIELD base network. Nonetheless, he pulled up what he could. Her I.D. photo appeared on screen, along with sub folders full of data.

The Winter Soldier leaned forward, now interested.

"Please, I will not tell-" his voice cut off when his throat was opened from side to side. He bled out quickly. The Winter Soldier knocked him off the chair and started reading.