Nothing is permanent in this world, not even our troubles.

Charlie Chaplin

It was three days later that Ginny stood outside the training room, breathing hard and wiping the sweat from her brow. The simulation had been tougher than she had anticipated, but she – she still didn't quite know how – had managed to do what was required of her. She simply hoped that it was enough. With a small sigh, she turned to the door expectantly as Steve walked out, his jaw set, his eyes glimmering with thinly veiled approval. Ginny felt decidedly relieved at the sight of it.

"That was a good run-through," he said loudly, as Wanda and Pietro – the last ones to exit – traipsed out of the room, dishevelled and sweaty. Ginny quickly turned her gaze away from Pietro. She hadn't talked to him since her run in with the other day and she was still determined not to. Unfortunately, however, it didn't make her immune to his constant staring. "But as we all know, we can't always expect everything to go to plan. But, that can't be helped. So, for the rest of the day, I want you all to rest – light gym work only if you want to work out; this gym has been reserved for our use only for the remainder of the day. Read up on the schematics of the facility, go over the mission plans, and if you have any questions, then come and ask Agent Romanoff or myself. Understood?"

There was a murmured chorus of, "Yes, sir," and Steve nodded his head curtly in response.

"Good. I'll see you all here tomorrow at 0300 hours sharp. And Agent Prewett? A word before you leave. The rest of you are dismissed."

Ginny resisted the urge to flush, feeling the penetrating stares of the team bore into her back as she stepped forward. To her right, Satsii snickered.

"Agent Satsii," Steve said coolly, raising an eyebrow. "I thought that I made myself clear."

He stopped sniggering. "Sorry, sir," he muttered, before turning away to follow the others. Ginny attempted not to roll her eyes. Satssi was such a git.

"So," Steve said, folding his arms across his chest, "how did it go for you?"

Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "It went better than expected, to be perfectly honest."

"Agent Carter has said that you've made good progress in the lessons."

Ginny paused. "I feel like I've improved."

Steve gave her a small smile. "And how do you feel about tomorrow?"

"Fine. As prepared as I can be, I guess."

"Good. Well, in that case, I suggest that you go and rest up, Agent Prewett. It's not going to get any easier."

Ginny nodded. "Thanks, sir," she muttered wryly, before turning on her heel and freezing just as abruptly.

Pietro. And he was glaring at her. And waiting right in front of the entrance to the woman's changing room. So much for her plan of avoiding him. Suppressing a groan, she began to walk stubbornly away to another area of the gym, her head high. She could always change later.

"Ginny," he said, his accented voice uncharacteristically sharp and Ginny felt a breath of wind as he passed her. She closed her eyes in annoyance and told herself to stay calm.

"Pietro," she acknowledged blankly, brushing a few hairs behind her ear as she pushed past him. "What's up?"

"What's up?" he said incredulously, watching as she picked up a skipping rope. "You've been avoiding me."

"And?" she said, raising an eyebrow as she wrapped the extra length of rope around her wrists. "Is that a crime?"

"Only when you're being hurt."

Ginny fell silent and pursed her lips, as she began to skip. She forced herself to take a deep breath, her feet thudding comfortingly against the gym floor. "Your concern is duly noted."

"Look, Ginny-"
"Look, Pietro," she snapped, feeling slightly guilty for her snippy tone, "I know what I'm doing. I've suffered a lot worse than whatever those idiot children can dish out. Not to mention, the stuff that happens with the recruits stays with the recruits. I can take care of it." And she was going to. Whenever she next saw the two bastards.

His voice was low, even sincere, as he replied, "It doesn't mean that you should be suffering it."

"Well," she exclaimed bitterly, "the world is just unfair, isn't it?"

"It doesn't have to be."
"Says the guy who literally held one of the biggest grudge matches of all time."

Pietro snorted softly. "You have me there, but we are friends, yes? Friends look out for each other."

Ginny nearly tripped over the rope. Friends? They were friends? Since when had that happened? Ginny's thoughts whirled dizzily and she stared at him disbelievingly, trying to remember when that had exactly occurred. Since the first day that she had met him, she had thought that he was an arrogant prat. He had swaggered up to her and asked her for her name, and right then, from that moment, she had known that he was going to be trouble. But, somehow, he wasn't as bad as he once had been, because somewhere along the line, Ginny had found herself being able to put up with his annoying habits and unbearable grins. And then the other day… He had been there for her, even when she had cried. Maybe… Maybe this wasn't so unexpected after all.

"Yes, we are friends, are we not?" he said impatiently, breaking Ginny violently out of her thoughts. "Besides," he added with his customary smirk, "you are friends with Wanda, so I get an automatic free pass."

She scowled at him and wondered if she was about to about a huge mistake as she muttered, "Fine. We're friends."

"Sorry?" he blinked exaggeratedly; his gaze tinged with the self assured arrogance that Ginny had somehow become accustomed to. "I didn't quite catch that."

Ginny stopped skipping and sighed. "Do I really have to say it again?"

"Yes," he grinned, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "You do."

Ginny folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes to the ceiling of the gym, but even she couldn't withhold the small smile that pulled at the edges of her lips as she tried to remember when this had happened. "Then, yes, okay. We're friends. You happy?"

"Very." He sauntered over to her and snatched the rope from her hands, looking at it with interest. "So, does that mean that you'll tell me what's wrong?"

"No. And seeing as we're now friends," she emphasised, "can you hand me back my rope?"

"No," he said, a dangerous smirk crossing his face. "If you want the rope, then you'll have to catch me first."

"Fine," she retorted. "I'll just go and grab myself another one then." And she turned to the tub filled with skipping ropes only to find that the large tub that had been there only seconds before, was missing. Whirling around, Ginny scanned the gym for Pietro's silver hair and glared at him as she noticed the harmless, bright blue container that he had placed teasingly at his feet.

"You want your rope?" he called over to her, amusement filling his voice. "Then come and get it. And if anyone asks, then we are training!"

For a moment, Ginny stood completely still on the other side of the gym. She couldn't believe that this was happening. She couldn't believe that she was literally considering stealing a basket full of skipping ropes from the fastest man on the planet. She shook her head in disbelief, as she started padding slowly along the gym floor, beginning to consider the best ways that she could possibly retrieve the blue tub. Merlin, she couldn't believe she was doing this.

This is what kids did.

Oh, screw it, she thought savagely. I need some fun.

This was just like when she had been younger and when Fred and George had stolen her favourite book. She found herself smiling softly at the memory. They had taken The Floating Castle when she had been sleeping and then devised a 'treasure hunt' in order for her to find it. It had taken her hours and she had had to endure an absolutely horrid trek throughout the entire house – including the attic – until she had eventually found it buried in one of the gnomes favourite holes in their garden. Even now, she still had the small scar on her finger from the vicious bite that the creature had given her. The whole thing had been a revenge attack after Ginny had accidentally turned their brooms into very large daisies after an unlucky attack of accidental magic – Ginny didn't even regret it; their outraged faces had been burned into her brain for life and even now, she smothered a chuckle as she conjured the same image again. In her mind, she saw Fred's boggled eyes, his mouth gaping as he stared at the overlarge flower that had taken the place of his beloved broomstick. George's eye had been twitching, his face becoming so red that Ginny had feared, in her young age, that he would catch on fire.

"Ginny?"

Ginny looked up with a quiet gasp of surprise, the memory shattering, splintering like glass and just like that, the illusion was broken. She blinked hard as Fred's face vanished and was embarrassed to feel the wetness that was trailing down one of her cheeks. She wiped it away roughly and resisted the urge to turn her head towards the ground. "Pietro, I, uh, I was just coming over to tell you that I will get that basket back, whether you like it or not." She tried to sound confident, but even she could hear the wavering note of uncertainty in her voice, feel the traitorous glassiness in her eyes.

"Ginny, what is wrong?"

"Nothing," she said quickly with a forced smile. "I was just… remembering something."

"Remembering what? Come on, Ginny, talk to me. We are friends now. We agreed on it."

"So we did," she said softly. "So we did, but first…"

She forced a sudden, impish smile onto her face and was sprinting across the floor, her feet pounding into the soft mats before Pietro could even realise what had happened. "But first," she yelled, "I'm going to get that basket!"

Ginny slumped to the gym floor, her chest heaving, sweat sliding down her back and soaking into her light t-shirt. This was not how she had imagined spending her afternoon, but it had been… surprisingly fun.

"You fight mean," she said breathlessly, turning her head towards Pietro's as he too lay next to her on the mat.

He scoffed at her and Ginny rolled his eyes as he raked a hand through his windswept hair. "Oh come on, so do you and don't," he said, as Ginny opened her mouth to protest, "even try to deny it. Natasha has been teaching you some of her tricks, hasn't she?" he accused.

"Maybe," she shrugged lightly. "So, does that mean that I get the basket then? Because, I did, you know, manage to haul it halfway across the room while you were-"

Pietro groaned, placing a hand dramatically over his eyes. "Yes, yes," he muttered childishly. "You get the basket on two conditions. You don't tell anybody what happened. Understand?"

"Understood." Ginny was unable to hide the amusement that laced her voice. "And what's the second one?"

"That you tell me why you were crying earlier. And whether or not you still have those bruises. You know, the ones that were shaped like hands."

Ginny's face darkened into a scowl at the abrupt request, her rare blissful feeling of peace slowly fading away. She had hoped that he had forgotten about those things. "You said only two conditions. There are now three."

"Fine," Pietro said. "You only get the basket on three conditions."

"Then I don't want the basket."

Her simple, brutal answer seemed to startle Pietro and he sat up slightly to glare down at her. "So, you still refuse to say what is troubling you."

"Yes," she said stubbornly. "I do. You don't have to like it."

"I don't like it," he frowned as he got to his feet and began to pace, his fingers tapping at a blinding speed on one of his thighs. "God, do you talk to anyone? Ever?"

"I'm talking to you right now, aren't I?" Ginny pointed out.

"Yes," he said in frustration, "but are you really talking to me? You always hide amongst these lies and questions! I never know whether or not what you are saying is the truth or whether it is something else."

"So, you don't trust me?" For some reason, her bitter revelation made her feel oddly miserable.

"No," Pietro lifted his chin. "I do trust you. I only worry for you." He sat back down with a heavy sigh. "In Sokovia, it is different than what it is like here. The civil war had made everyone restless, suspicious. We would walk out onto the streets and feel the stares on our backs until we turned the corner. We would speak, and we would see the traitorous eyes of the shop owner analyse our every word, trying to decide whether or not our deception was worthy. We lied for bread, for clothing, for everything that we could get our hands on, and before we knew it, we had wrapped ourselves in this web of lies. At the centre of it, through, lay one man. Tony Stark. Out of all of the lies, this was the one that started it all. I ignored everything else, created everything else in favour of this one thing, this one desire to kill him. I now realise that all I had been doing, the entire time, had been lying to myself in the worst way possible. And I used it to justify a great many things, some of which neither my sister nor I are proud of.

"Ginny, whatever it is that you saw, whatever it is that you went through, I understand. I understand what it is like to lose those who you love, to see your friends lie dead in the streets after another bombing. I know. I have seen it. And I have now learned, after a long, long time," he smiled a tight smile, "that it is not good to keep hiding these things to yourself. They will only fester and grow."

Ginny's voice was small as she replied, "So what do you suggest I do?"

"I suggest that you accept it," he said simply. "You cannot change the past. And I suggest that you talk."

"Like you talk about you being shot?" Ginny cut in, her eyes sharp. "Because if that's what you mean, then that's more than a little hypocritical, don't you think? How can you tell me to talk about wounds when you cannot yet come to terms with your own?"

Pietro's expression hardened and Ginny snorted in derision.

"What? Surely you don't think that I – that we – wouldn't have noticed? When it comes up, it is a one-word answer. When an interviewer asks, you smile and avoid the question. When someone kicks you in training, like I saw today, you wince."

"Did Wanda ask you to tell me about this?"

"I have a pair of eyes," she stated frigidly. "I use them."

"So, this is what you want to talk about then, is it?" he said coldly. "My getting shot?"

Ginny sat up, her eyes burning. "It is."

"And what will you do?"

She hesitated, thinking carefully over what she would say, what she would tell him. "My house," she started slowly, wistfully, "was called the Burrow. We lived, all nine of us, together in this house out in the middle of England, away from everyone and everything. It was falling down, old and creaky, and the rooms were so tiny and cramped. There was always something going on. There was never any peace. But that's what made it home. The kitchen was always the nosiest place, especially at dinner time, and when we had Harry, Hermione, and Fleur staying with us, it was even more crowded." She closed her eyes, the images swirling behind her eyelids and laid back on the gym mat. "Our favourite time was Christmas. Mum would always put on this ghastly singer, and when I say ghastly, I mean absolutely terrible. The screeching voice of her would echo throughout the entire kitchen and everyone would always tell her to turn the bloody thing off, but she never did. And then," she said softly, "we would share presents, eat until we couldn't eat anymore, and laugh for ages at whatever it was that Fred and George had done now or whatever ludicrous thing had happened at school that term. Even dad would stop looking so stressed and Harry would stop looking so troubled, even if it were only for a few hours. I always thought that it was horribly chaotic, but now that I look back, I only see a beautiful peace, one that I'll never be able to get back or see again. In the war," she swallowed, "as you already know, my mother and one of my brothers, Fred, died."

"Ginny-"

"No, I'm going to tell you this. After their deaths, I… I killed my mother's killer and, even though she was a complete psychotic bitch, there is not one day that I don't see the light fade from her eyes. It was my first kill, my first murder I suppose you could say, that I really meant, that I really wanted and I can still fill the rage when I think about it. All of the others, they were different. It was dark, dusty and the screams were so loud. Merlin, they were so loud. I couldn't see where I was going, I could barely hear what was going on around me and so I shot sp- I shot blindly into the mess. And when hands closed around me throat, I shot them too. I don't know who I killed, I don't even know if I killed them. I don't even know…" she trailed off. "I don't know."

She felt light fingers grasp her hands.

She didn't even pull away, as she allowed her vulnerable gaze to fall on the gym mats.

"So," she cleared her throat, "you going to talk now or what? That was our deal."

"Yes, yes," he said quietly. "I did." His fingers were still intertwined with hers and Ginny grasped them more tightly, revelling in their comforting warmth. She couldn't remember the last time that she had willingly held – gripped – someone else's hands and she felt herself blanch at the realisation. Three years. That was exactly how long it had been since the war, since Harry's death, since the murders of her brother, her mother, and her friends. For a moment, she was tempted to pull herself away from Pietro and run out of the gym in embarrassment. She hadn't been this open, this vulnerable in a long, long time and it was a feeling that she decidedly abhorred. But as she brought her eyes up to Pietro's, she saw the seriousness, the understanding, the pure, unexpected compassion that glinted there, and she couldn't bring herself to rip her hands from his. She would allow herself this. She would allow herself this one moment of weakness.

"I feel them," he said suddenly and Ginny looked to him curiously. "I feel them in my dreams – my nightmares. I feel the bullets, the pain, the shouting, Wanda's devastation… I see it, hear it, feel it all. Again and again. Over and over. It is… It is not as bad as it used to be, but…"
"It's still there."

"It's still there," Pietro confirmed darkly. "When it happens, it is like I am seeing my own death, living it a thousand times over. When someone hits me on those scars, they ache. When I run and run and run, all I see is the blood that soaks through my shirt, just like it did back in Sokovia. I asked Doctor Cho about it, but she said that she could do nothing, that she had already done as she much as she could. She also," his voice grudging, "recommended that I see Dr Piqerton."

"And did you?" Ginny pressed lightly, the image of the pretty, dark skinned psychologist flickering through her mind.

"Maybe for a few sessions," he admitted.

"And did it help?"

"I would like to say no, but seeing as we are being honest, it did. For a while."

Natasha was standing with her back against the wall, her eyes closed and her breathing light. They didn't know that she was here, listening to every word that came out of their mouths, and a part of her wished that they did. But this was their moment. This was their story and who was she to break that?

Natasha had known that whatever had happened to Ginny Prewett through whatever war she had suffered through hadn't been pretty, but it was different listening to it. There was a raw truth in Ginny's hesitant voice and a detachment that only Natasha could detect, because detachment was what someone did when they were revealed the malicious demons of their past. Detachment was the only thing that worked, the only thing that held back the tirade of guilt and the flowing red that she knew dripped from her hands. She sighed a quiet sigh and rested her head against the wall, her hair pressing against her own scarred back.

She had reluctantly learned to deal with her self-hatred over the years. After all, after working with someone like Clint Barton, who was the most infuriating, intriguing, stubborn, and incredible person that she had ever met, she had had to learn to push her past behind her. It didn't mean, though, that it didn't still haunt her dreams, torturing her with nightmares that were all too real.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she focused on the murmuring sound of Pietro's accented voice. He was speaking quietly, too quietly for Natasha to make out the individual syllables of the different words, and she found herself relieved that the younger redhead had found someone to confide in. She only hoped that the elder Maximoff knew the importance, the privilege, of what Ginny was giving him.

It had taken her months to warm up to Clint, to begin to talk to him and let him into the mess that was her mind. She had been sure that he would never have been able to help her, sure that someone like him could never understood. But he had and that wasn't even the worst of it. Clint had stood by her, firm and steadfast, supported her in her decisions, healed her in ways that she had never realised could be possible.

With a small start, Natasha realised that Ginny was getting her second chance, her second chance at redemption, her second chance of life. It didn't mean that she trusted her – she was more than certain that there was something else that she was hiding under her careful expressions – but it did mean that she could see where she was coming from and understand her desperation for wanting something new, for wanting to start over.

She opened her eyes and peeled herself away from the wall, allowing a rare twitch of fatigue to show, before slithering away to the far gym that was now one of her favourite places to be.

Ginny jogged lightly out of the gym, feeling strangely light. She hadn't anticipated revealing anything, least of all to Pietro Maximoff, yet she had done just that. And it had felt good. She hadn't come here to make friends, hadn't intended to do or say anything than what she was required to do, yet here she was. Training to be an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., returning to a life that she was sure that she would never want again, making friends with people that she had been determined to shove away into a dark cove.

And Merlin did it feel good. It felt right. It felt like she was finally becoming a person that she could be proud of, that her family could be proud of, instead of being the shell of a person, the coward that she had been before. Receiving training… At first, she had seen it as a curse, but now she recognised that it was a gift. It made her feel powerful, capable once again. It had even helped with her nightmares. It had allowed her to make friendships.

With a small smile, she glanced briefly down at her watch and sighed at the time. It was already late afternoon. If she wanted any sleep at all, then she was going to have to go to bed soon and she grimaced at the thought. She hated going to bed in the afternoon, but she supposed that that was the nature of the job.

Rounding the corner, she almost jumped as she literally ran into Satsii, Reiter at his side. She rolled her eyes at them and bit down the smirk that was threatening to spread over her face. She had been waiting for this moment all week. Why else had she let them hit her? Childish idiots.

"Prewett."

Ginny tilted her head coolly. "Satsii. Reiter. You two prats ready for tomorrow?"

"Readier than you'll ever be."

"You mean more pigheaded than I'll ever be," she replied bluntly. There was no use bandying words and sly insults with people like these. "Still following him around like a dog on a leash, Reiter?" she asked the tall brunette or shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her stare. "Shame. You could actually be decent, you know. So, are you two going to let me pass then or are we going to do this the hard way?"

"There's a hard w-"

Ginny elegantly punched him in the face, ignoring the blood that spurted from his nose, and kneed him in the crotch, her expression a careful mask as she swept Satsii's feet from underneath him. He landed on the ground clumsily and swore as she grinned. Carter had taught her that one.

"Did you think that there wouldn't be? A hard way, that is?" she asked coldly.

"You bitch," he snarled. "You'll pay-"

"Pay? Me?" she hissed, finally allowing the icy fury to flood into her eyes and into her voice. She crouched down next to him, hauling him up by his regulation shirt. "I've paid enough in my life, you asshole. I've paid in ways that you, you pathetic asshole, can never imagine. What? You thought that it would be this easy to terrorise me? Did you ever think for one moment that I let you do that? That I let you hit me?" She snorted as she let him fall back against the floor. "I wanted to see how low you'd go. As for you, Reiter, like I said before. If you didn't follow him," she gestured to the bloody agent on the floor, "around, then you'd be all right."

And so she punched him for good measure too, feeling only slightly guilty as Reiter uncomplainingly took the hit; Ginny suspected that he had taken the punch out of a sense of guilt than anything else.

"As a friend of mine likes to say," she taunted with a triumphant flick of her hair, as she walked down the corridor, "'you didn't see that coming'? Because if you had been paying attention and not staring in admiration to your muscles, then you maybe you would have. Now you have to live with the fact that 'poor' Prewett kicked your asses."

Hey everyone! I'm back, free, and a happy chappy! My exams were okay, except for maths, which is typical since I spent six weeks studying for it. (Calculus, especially integration, is the worst, dear readers.) I guess that you can never be too sure until you find out, though.

Thank you all so much for the support from all of your guys! Reviews, favourites, follows, and views always make my day! If you see any mistakes (I'm exhausted), then please let me now ASAP and I shall fix them!

To Al: Thank you so much for your support and I hope that you enjoyed today's chapter!

To aromatictruth: Thanks for the luck and the support! I hope that you liked today's chapter!

To Katelyn: Sunday updates have started once again! Thank you for your support :)

To Guest: Ginny shall definitely be revealing her powers in the near future! Some of your guesses as to how, though, were pretty good. Thanks for your lovely review!

To E.J. Rudys: You flatter me with your lovely words. I'm really glad that you're still enjoying the story!

So, we have the mission next chapter! I can't wait to post it (it's still a work in progress, unfortunately, but it's definitely getting there)! So, depending on how it goes, seeing as I actually have time now (until I get a small job, that is, until uni starts), I will try to post it before next week's update. If you want any more info, then please see my profile!

I hope that you all have a lovely week!

HauntedCinders