She clamped her eyes shut and breathed deeply as she counted the seconds in her head '10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2…'

'1' She didn't feel any pain, but why would she? Her guts should be splattered all over what used to be a kitchen, she'd be dead, instantly or at least so close to instantly that she wouldn't even notice her death. She opened her eyes and saw she was still in the kitchen which confused her no end. Had she miscounted the amount of time she had left? She looked down at the phone that acted as a timer and saw "00:01" flashing on and off of the screen. She sighed in relief, it had worked, the bomb was disabled "You okay there?" she heard her father say and she smiled a smile of both relief and happiness, so glad that she had heard her father's voice again.

"Yeah," she said tears of joys streaming down her face. She stayed quiet for a few moments feeling her chest rise and fall with each breath she took as she stared straight ahead, waiting for Steve to enter the room. After what felt like an age, she heard a door creak open and then there he was, standing in front of her appearing both concerned and relieved. "How about we leave the typical happy reunion thing for a bit so you can untie me," she suggested as Steve made his way over to her. Quickly, he set about cutting the binds with a pocket knife he just so happened to have until she could slip them off. The moment the binds were off her, Samantha stood up and removed the vest, throwing it across the floor in anger, and fell into Steve's arms as he hugged her and kissed her, holding her so tight that it felt like he may never let go "Let's get out of here," she whispered softly and as they left the room, his hand gently resting on the small of her back, she smiled and leant into his side, just happy to be alive.

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The moment she got home, Samantha was ambushed by hugs, even one from Natasha – which shocked the teenager no end. "Uh happy new year?" she said once she'd recovered, a slightly apprehensive look on her face.

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Tony and Pepper lay on their bed trying to get some sleep. Memories of the night replayed in their minds. Between unanswered proposals and assassination attempts, sleep seemed to be evading them. Pepper turned to face Tony, knowing that, if anything, he needed an answer to his earlier question "Yes," she said softly and carefully, a small smile on her face.

He faced her confused for a second before groggily saying "What?" as he squinted to see her in the darkness. He may have thought himself invincible but even Tony Stark could admit that he found it difficult to see in the dark.

"Yes, I will marry you," she told him watching how his face lit up instantly with one of those genuine big, beaming smiles that so few people got to see.

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Samantha padded quietly through to the living room wearing her teddy bear pyjama bottoms and turquoise pyjama top. Every time she had closed her eyes, memories of the night's events flickered through her mind like some kind of news reel from an old cinema. Turning on the TV, she flicked through the channels until she found Roman Holiday was showing. She smiled and curled up on the couch to watch.

"Can't sleep?" she heard the familiar tones of her boyfriend before she even met his eyes. Pepper had set up a room for him after Christmas, in case he'd needed it – neither she nor Tony thought that he'd actually use it at that point. Steve's blonde hair was messed up and he'd switched out his suit for a set of flannel pyjamas. He looked far more youthful than the worried man she'd seen not three hours earlier. She shook her head no, hoping that just that action would tell him enough "Neither can I. What are you watching?"

"Roman Holiday, d'you wanna watch with me?" she suggested quietly so as not to wake the rest of the tower. He nodded and sat down beside her. She leant into his side as they watched and eventually drifted off to sleep.

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She was bound to that chair again. She'd thought this was over but of course it wasn't, this was HYDRA and they would stop at nothing until every avenger was either dead or so close to death that it wouldn't matter either way. The German agent from last time stood before her, a smarmy grin on his face "Bring him in," he uttered, turning his face towards the door as a man was brought in. He wore the original red, white and blue uniform of Captain America from the 1940s. His blonde hair was tinged red with blood, his face bloodied and bruised but it was still him – her Steve – the very man she would love to the ends of the universe and back tenfold. She tried to reach out and touch him one last time, for it had to be the last time "Shoot him," the agent ordered, a smirk on his face as he said so.

"What? No! Please no, shoot me instead," she begged, desperation dripping from her voice. Still, the agent nodded and she clamped her eyes shut, knowing Steve would not want her to see him die. She heard the sound of a gun with its silencer on. She opened her eyes and saw his body slumped on the floor. Hot, salty tears fell from her eyes as she wailed his name repeatedly.

"Wake up, it's just a dream," she heard his voice say like a record on a loop. Soon enough the lines between dream and reality started to blur.

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Her eyes snapped open and she looked around the familiar room. It was definitely the living room of Stark Tower, the marbled floor, the high ceilings, the black leather sofa, it was all there. She wasn't bound to that chair. Steve was okay; he had his arms wrapped around her protectively as he told her "It's okay, I'm right here, it was just a dream," his voice a soothing tide as he stroked her hair.

"It was just a dream," she repeated to herself, her breathing still heavy as she convinced herself. It was the first time she'd ever had a dream so realistic, normally they were mere memories, but this was a total nightmare, it was something that hadn't happened but it seemed so real. Worse still, it had been about losing Steve. The possibility was upon her now and she hated it being there. Why did it all have to be so difficult?

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Breakfast the next morning was a challenge to deal with. Everyone seemed to be on tenterhooks around Samantha, as though she were a porcelain doll dancing on the edge of a precipice. She wanted to tell everyone that she was strong, that she didn't want to be treated as though she were some fragile ornament but she knew it would be of no use.

Then the newspapers arrived and with them came headlines. 'Like father, like daughter' said the National Enquirer. 'Samantha's Wild New Year's Turns Sour' claimed Page Six. Even the New York Times had their say with 'Stark Daughter's Stark Night Out'. Her father tried to hide them from her, but to no avail she found them anyway.

"It can't be that bad," she said before opening one. Unfortunately, she was wrong.

'On its busiest night of the year, downtown Manhattan saw half of its nightclub district closed off due to a supposed gas leak. Yet, Samantha Montgomery – daughter of genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist Tony Stark – insisted on staying behind in one of the affected nightclubs, Golightly's.

Wearing a blue Alexander Wang crop top, black Jonathan Simkhai skirt and black Jimmy Choo sandals (see inset), Samantha arrived looking stunning with two unnamed companions at 10pm.

However, she did not leave the popular hot spot until 12:30am, a half hour after the night club had been evacuated. When she did leave (see right), she was held close to her male companion looking traumatised and dishevelled as she seemingly leant on him for support. This reporter feels the need to question why. Why did Samantha leave the club so much later than other frequenters and why was she so noticeably upset when she did leave?'

"What do we do?" Clint asked. Being the one to bite the bullet and ask the question no one really wanted to ask was, it seemed, his specialty.

Samantha stood up from her seat on the couch and leant over the dining room table, looking like a strategist in a war room "We launch a publicity war," she stated, her voice low in every sense of the word. Everyone looked at her as though she were crazy "What? HYDRA is convinced we'll just try and cover it up, that's probably all they're prepared for. So, if we launch war on them, lay it out there for everyone to see, they'll be so gobsmacked it'll take an age for them to respond by which time, we'll be prepped and ready for any possible retaliation they'd have,"

"Coulson would never agree to it," Natasha informed the group.

"He would if his hero were to ask him," Tony said looking pointedly at Steve.