Chapter Ten

Emily looked at the agent across from her. The woman's eyes were narrowed, whether in concentration or annoyance, Em didn't know. "Um…" she began lamely, "When are we-"

"Quiet," the woman snapped before springing out of her chair and beginning to pace. Emily looked at Coulson who shook his head. "How long?"

"A few hours. We just need the basics." She raised an eyebrow and shook her short red locks from her face.

"Naïve."

"Excuse me?" Emily asked, bristling at the slight. Again, the woman ignored her and continued pacing.

"She'll have to play dumb. How long was the General with her?" Coulson looked at Emily who shrugged.

"Less than an hour." The woman stopped and looked at Emily.

"Tell me about Captain Rogers."

"What?"

"How is he doing? Has he begun venturing out without an agent?"

"I don't know, I don't spend much time with-" The woman slammed her hand down on the table, making Emily jump.

"Do you want the Sanders recruiting him?" she snapped. "You give him something like that and he'll know that it's just a waiting game. Now, has Captain Rogers been venturing out without a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent?"

"No," Emily said, her voice somewhat unsure, "They're keeping a close eye on him."

"Why?"

"Why?" she echoed. The woman narrowed her eyes again. "A lot's changed from the '40's hasn't it? This isn't the same New York he grew up in."

"Good, you can think on your feet," she sat back in the vacant chair and turned to Coulson. "What's the scenario?"

"There's a gala at the Museum of Modern Art tonight. Players from Washington and the UN, possibly the Council." She raised an eyebrow and looked at Emily.

"We can't get an agent in her place?"

"No. Sanders' specifically requested her."

"A wire?"

"No, it won't get passed security." Emily watched the exchange and furrowed her eyebrows. "We're not expecting anything big tonight. Our main target is Sanders."

"We don't have anyone there?" Coulson was quiet for a moment before he stood up, removed his cell phone from the inside pocket of his jacket, and dialed a number. They could hear a male voice on the line.

"What your plans were for tonight?" he said. He nodded before walking out of the room.

"Would it kill anyone to tell me what the hell is going on?" Emily sighed, leaning back in the chair. The woman smirked.

"You're going to play naïve. You don't know what's going on at S.H.I.E.L.D. except that you were brought in to help Captain Rogers. If Sanders asks for specifics, you divert him. When this fails, he will probably try to gain your trust in some way. This," she hissed, "is when you'll have to be on guard. Sanders will use this as leverage over you." She paused. "Anything goes wrong, you call me at this number." The woman withdrew a piece of paper from her leather jacket and took the pen from Emily's folder. Natasha Romanoff, she wrote, followed by a series of numbers. "If I don't answer, my partner will. You speak to me, Coulson, or Barton, that's it."

"Will anything go wrong?"

"I don't think so," Natasha said, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms across her chest. She regarded Emily for a moment. "What are you wearing?"

"No idea."

"Blue or pink. Trustworthiness or innocence."

"I hate pink."

"Blue it is. Hair up, simple make-up." Emily shook her head, thinking about how much she had to do in a few short hours.

"We've got someone in place," Coulson said as he walked back into the room. "He'll make contact with you there."

"And how am I supposed to know who he is?"

"He'll make himself known," he assured her. "You'll do fine."

"We need to go," Natasha stated. "We need to get you ready."

"You'll handle this?" Coulson asked. The redhead jerked her head.

"It gets me out of meeting with Dr. Thompson."

"He'll reschedule you," he smirked.

"Not if I'm in the field again. Doctor?" Emily stood up and followed her out of the room. As they walked down the hall, a man was walking towards them.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his eyes flicking from Natasha to Emily.

"Fine. I need your keys." He raised his eyebrows but pulled them from his pant pocket and tossed them to her. She caught them easily.

"I want it back this time," he stated. "In one piece. The last one made for a lot of paperwork."

"Fine, Clint," she sighed. Natasha motioned for Emily to start walking.

"I mean it this time, Nat!" Clint called after them.

"That would be Agent Barton," Natasha explained, ignoring him. "He's trustworthy." Emily nodded. They didn't talk as they entered the garage and walked towards a red Camaro.

OOO

Emily's hands were shaking as she attempted to paint on the black eyeliner on her top lid. As eight o'clock drew closer, her nerves were getting worse. This was not what she had agreed to when taking this job.

She stepped back from the mirror and took a deep breath while walking into the bedroom. With a few clicks on the computer, her favorite song was playing. She closed her eyes and pictured a calming scene, like her grief councilor had suggested. The image of her grandparents dancing in the kitchen came to mind. Emily smiled and walked back to the bathroom.

"Quand il me prend dans ses bras," she sang. "Il me parle tout bas, je vois le vie en rose…"

OOO

"Captain," Agent Romanoff said as she met Captain Rogers in the hall.

"Ma'am," he nodded. She studied him out of the corner of her eye as they walked down the corridor together. As they approached Dr. Harthorn's room, Romanoff stopped walking.

"You do realize the only reason she's doing this is for you." It wasn't a question. During the few hours of shopping and prep work, Natasha had found that she somewhat liked the historian.

"All due respect, Ma'am, but I have no problem rejoining the army." The agent cocked an eyebrow and crossed her arms across her chest.

"You honestly have no idea what they have planned for you, do you?"

"Planned for me?" he furrowed his eyebrows.

"A lot has changed-"

"So I've been told," he muttered.

"And the last thing we need is you over in the desert," she finished, ignoring the interruption. Without giving him time to respond, she turned on her heel and walked to Emily's door and knocked. When it opened, Steve heard a French woman singing.

OOO

"Good," Natasha said when she saw Emily. She had taken her advice and done simple make up, and her hair was done in an elegant knot (Em hadn't been too keen on the hair extensions, but the stylist had explained it was a single piece, easily taken out). The fringe bangs that usually just got in her eyes were finally tamed and swept to the sides of her face.

"I don't know if I can do this," Emily confessed, sitting down on her bed and folding her hands in her lap.

"That's not an option," she replied, walking to the garment bag handing off of the closet. "You need to get dressed; the General's car will be here soon."

Emily looked at the dress and suppressed a groan. While she'd wanted something more demure, Natasha had insisted on the strapless blue mermaid dress with a deep sweetheart neckline. A little cleavage around an older man could go a long way, she'd insisted. After retrieving her strapless bra from the dresser, Em took the dress and retreated to the bathroom to wiggle into it.

"I need your help," she said when she emerged. "I can't get the zipper." Natasha stepped behind her and pulled the tab up. She inspected the historian before nodding her approval.

"You need to get upstairs."

"I need to do something really quick," Emily said. She grabbed a book nearly bursting from Post It notes from her desk and motioned for the other woman to go out before her. Consciences of how she was being watched, Emily walked down the hall and stopped outside of Steve's room. Hesitantly, she knocked. As expected he didn't answer. Emily didn't think he would. Still, it was a little disappointing.

With shaking hands, Emily propped the book against the door and pulled the folded sheet of paper out a bit more so that it was visible. "Doctor?" Natasha said, tapping her wrist.

"Coming," Emily said, straightening up and walking back towards her.

OOO

Steve stepped out of the shower and rubbed the towel through his hair. Once dressed, he slipped on his shoes, intending to get some dinner. When he opened the door, however, his plans changed.

A red book hit the floor with a thud. Confused, Steve picked it up and read the title, instantly realizing whom it was from. Only Emily would have given him a book entitled 'The Twentieth Century World and Beyond: An International History since 1990'. He thumbed through the pages, pausing at some of the pictures, reading the notes in the margins, and lifted the sheet of paper from the book.

Steve,

I cannot express how sorry I am for what happened. As an apology, I have worked on the project that you and Dr. Thompson had discussed. While it's not complete, I've left the conference room unlocked if you would like to see what I've found thus far.

Also, I would like to recommend that you read this book. I usually suggest that my students read over it. It's not as thorough as others, but it's a starting point.

With sincerest apologies,

Em

Steve looked at Emily's note and shook his head. A starting point? The book had over 500 pages! Still flipping through the book, he shut the door and walked to the conference room, dinner forgotten about.

It was somewhat surprising to Steve when he saw the amount of boxes and files in the room. He set her book down on the table and looked around for a moment, trying to take it all in. Large sheets of white paper had been fixed to the wall, and she'd begun what looked like a timeline of his activities during the War on one wall. The opposite wall was covered in lists of events that occurred afterward, broken up by decade. A large white screen dominated the third wall. On the table, however, a large purple binder caught his attention.

Steve opened the cover and bent over to read the title of the paper: "Selling War: Politics, Propaganda, and Profits in World War II" by Emily Harthorn (B.A. History, B.S. Political Science, M.A. History). He skimmed the table of contents, stopping when he saw "Senator Brandt and the Captain America Project" on chapter four. It covered about 97 pages of the 357 page total. Shaking his head, Steve shut the cover and looked up to see the wall behind the door dominated by numerous white boards, each with a picture attached to the top.

"Son of a gun," he muttered, walking over to it. Steve shut the door and saw the tiny black writing that covered a majority of the surfaces. Shaking his head, stepped in front of the first and started to read.

OOO

"Have I told you how wonderful you look?" General Sanders asked as they walked around the room.

"Yes, but thanks," Emily answered, a tense smile on her lips. He'd spent the last hour and a half an hour introducing her to the various people in attendance. So far, she'd met 7 Senators, 15 Representatives, a handful of ambassadors, and too many military personnel to count. The military were the most difficult; they all seemed to know who she was, and the conversation inevitably turned the Captain Rogers. It had been hard to change the subject so often, but she'd managed.

Sanders placed a hand on the small of her back and led her to a table before pulling the chair out for her. Emily muttered her thanks and sat, setting the champagne glass on the table.

"So," he said, setting his Scotch glass beside hers, "I'm sure Fury was angry that you decided to come tonight."

"Yes," she said, trying to keep herself calm, "you could say that." Sanders grinned and nodded to a couple walking past.

"He's always been easy to piss off, that one. Pardon my French." Emily shook her head and reached for her champagne. "Take Captain Rogers, for instance." She tensed, hand frozen on the stem of the glass. "Ever since they found him, Fury's been blocking every attempt for the DOD to see him."

"Oh?" She lifted the glass to her lips and finished the contents.

"Sure as hell don't know why. The boy seems pretty intent on getting back to work, and we could use him overseas." The General turned to her and looked at her intently. "Has the Captain mentioned anything about rejoining to you?"

"No." It was the honest answer. Sanders noticed her empty glass and flagged down a waiter who replaced it a full one. Remembering how Natasha had warned her about keeping her head, Emily set it on the table after taking a small sip.

"You need to relax, Emily. It's a party, after all."

"Sorry," she smiled shyly, "it's been a while since I've been to a party. I guess I've just forgotten how to act." It was rather uncomfortable when he squeezed her shoulder, lingering a bit too long. "I'm going to slip off to the powder room, if you'd excuse me for a moment."

"Sure. I'll just got say hello to General Roberts over there." Emily grabbed her clutch and walked towards the restroom until she was out of his sight. Then she changed direction and walked towards the elevators. If she was going to be stuck here all night, there was at least one thing she wanted to see.

OOO

Steve shook his head as he stepped away from the second board. "Gabe," he chuckled, "a Senator. Imagine that."

OOO

It was more beautiful in person, not that she hadn't expected that. Starry night was her favorite painting.

"Lovely, isn't it?" a silky British voice said behind her. Emily turned and felt her jaw drop.

"You?"

OOO

Emily disentangled herself from the conversation and held up her glass, "Be right back," she said. Smiling, she weaved her way through the tables and towards the bar, smoothing down her cocktail dress and avoiding the leering eyes of the businessmen.

It was a gorgeous April night, but Emily couldn't help but feel broody. Tomorrow she would be walking across the stage and be awarded her doctorate, the culmination of four and a half years of hard work. She had always pictured herself leaving the school in a blaze of glory, off to another school to educate young minds on the importance of historical preservation (not that her students paid attention). Instead, she would be staying exactly where she was, continuing her research that continually lead to dead ends.

"Penny for your thoughts?" a man said, sidling up next to her. Emily turned and regarded him for a moment, instantly captivated by his piercing green-blue eyes. It took her a moment to pull herself away and turn back to look for the bartender.

"It's nothing," she replied.

"Ah," he nodded, his accent drawing the attention of the woman behind him. He didn't seem to notice as he stroked the scruff on his cheeks, "That bad."

"I'm sorry?" Emily raised an eyebrow and looked at him again.

"Whenever a woman says that nothing is on her mind, it's something rather big." Emily shook her head and leaned across the bar, catching the bartender's eye and he nodded, holding up a finger. "Let me guess," the man said, "You're fighting with your boyfriend."

"No," she shook her head. He nodded towards her table and smiled again, white teeth flashing behind pale pink lips.

"Your boyfriend doesn't seem too happy I'm talking to you." Her eyes darted to Dave, who was watching her intently. She sighed and turned away from him, shaking her head.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Really? Well in that case, my name's Tristan," he held out his hand.

"Emily," she replied, shaking it briefly.

"What is it that you do, Emily?" Tristan asked.

"I'm a student. Or, I was. I'm graduating tomorrow." He raised his eyebrow and Emily noticed a small scar there.

"What degree?"

"Doctorate of History."

"Beautiful and intelligent," he raised his nearly empty glass to her before downing the rest of the contents and settling it on the bar. "Shall I buy you a drink to celebrate?"

"No thanks," she laughed, flushed at his complement. "The department has a tab open." The bartender finally showed up and asked for their order.

"I'll have a Scotch and the Doctor will have a-" Tristan paused and studied her, "A white wine spritzer."

"Rum and coke," Emily corrected. "And I'm not a doctor yet."

"It's as good as yours," he replied. "What are you plans after graduation?"

"I'll still be here," she sighed. "Post-doc work. What do you do?"

"I'm an assassin," he said, deadpan. Emily raised an eyebrow again and laughed.

"An assassin?"

"A spy, really. Just assassination on the side." The bartender placed their drinks on in front of them, and Tristan withdrew a twenty-dollar bill from the inside of his black suit jacket, motioning to the both of them. "Keep the change," he said smoothly.

"Are you in town for a job?" she asked, playing along with the ruse.

"Reconnaissance," he 'admitted'. Emily nodded, sipping her drink.

"Well, good luck with that. Thanks for the drink." Tristan took her left hand and lifted it to his lips.

"Good luck, Emily. Maybe we'll see each other again." She blushed again.

"Erm, maybe. Good luck with the recon." He smiled and released her hand. She walked away, feeling his eyes on her. Emily turned and looked at him; he was rather impressive in his black suit and white shirt, muscles evident even in the dark. He lifted his glass to his lips and downed his Scotch. With a wink, he disappeared into the crowd.

OOO

"Fancy meeting you here," he grinned.

"Tristan?" He laughed.

"It's Carter, actually. Just wanted to check up on how you're fairing."

"You-you're the one that Coulson called?"

"Of course," Carter shrugged. "So, has the General asked you about Captain Rogers yet?"

"Wait, were you being honest at the bar? About the being an assassin part?" Carter looked up at the ceiling and huffed.

"Emily, focus. Rogers, has the General asked you about him yet?"

"What? Yeah."

"And you've deflected him?"

"So far." He'd been trying to turn their conversation to Steve quite a bit, but she'd always tried to get them on a new topic.

"Good. Now, you need to get back down there before he realizes you're missing." Carter wrapped an arm around her waist and steered her back towards the elevator bank.

"Why were you at that bar?" she demanded, stepping out of his grasp.

"Orders are orders," he shrugged.

"So you were hitting on my for S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Oh no, that was strictly for myself. Most of my assignments don't involve beautiful women." When the elevators opened, he ushered her inside and pressed the button for the ground floor.

"Quit flirting," Emily demanded. "Aren't you supposed to be making sure I don't make a fool out of myself or something?"

"You've done well so far. Ease off of the bubbly and you'll continue to perform superbly." She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes.

"Asshole."

"You were much more charming at the bar. Perhaps I just need to get you significantly more drunk…"

"Yeah, that's not going to happen." He laughed again and looked at his watch.

"You've already been missing for half an hour. He's going to ask where you've been. Don't tell him we've talked or he'll be suspicious."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Emily muttered as they stepped out of the elevator. She didn't turn back as she spotted the General and walked towards him.

OOO

It had been a severe disappointment when he'd seen the board for Peggy empty. There was a note about referencing previous research, but Steve hadn't been able to locate it. Instead, he'd settled for going through the box marked SSR New Reels.

OOO

"There you are," General Sanders said as Emily walked up to him.

"Sorry, I saw that they had Starry Night upstairs and I couldn't resist," she smiled. "I've always wanted to see it." Sanders nodded.

"Would you like to dance, Doctor?" When she nodded, he led her to the floor and placed a hand on her waist and took her hand in his. They were quiet as they glided across the floor until he spoke again. "Have you been enjoying yourself this evening?"

"Yes," she lied. "It's been interesting."

"More so than your job?"

"I don't know. It's hard to compare."

"You know, if you were to bring Captain Rogers around, I'm sure I could secure you a job with the Department of Defense."

"I'm fine where I am now, thanks." They were quiet again. General Sanders studied her and decided to change tactics.

"I'm glad you're working on this project," the General said. "It has a certain…symmetry."

"Sorry?" Emily asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Your grandfather, he developed the serum, and now you're continuing his work."

"My grandfather?"

"Dr. Erskine," he stated. As the song ended, they clapped and moved from the dance floor, his hand gently guiding her back towards their table.

Author's Note: So a few things. Once again, this is a much longer chapter because I had so much to cover. The next chapter will cover the fallout of the revelation that Emily is Erskine's granddaughter! How many of you saw that coming, in all honesty? I wanted to get quite a few of you with the hint two updates ago, when they discussed her language fluency. I like this one better than the Peggy connection because I've found that a little weird. And I haven't seen the Erskine/OC connection done before.

Also, I know that I didn't get Natasha right, but I always saw her somewhat stressed after what happened in Budapest. Ah, I love that Clint calls her 'Nat' in the movie. *Sigh*.

As for Carter. I'll admit, he was not originally part of the story. I was going to have Pepper be the person she met at the Museum, but after seeing This Means War, I instantly pictured Tom Hardy being part of this. So yes, Carter is Tom Hardy.

Thirdly: while I'm not quite sure when this will happen, there will be a lapse in updates sometime in the next few weeks. My sister is having her daughter and I'll be headed home for that. When that happens, I'm pretty sure I won't be able to update with trying to help with her, seeing my other sister for the first time in a year, and being at my parents house.

As always, let me know what you think! And thank you for reading =]