Steve ducked behind a sandbag barrier as Clark fired a paintball that splattered red against a tree three feet over where his head had been. For the past few hours, he and Natasha had been taking turns shooting at her rookies at this forested SHIELD training facility in western Virginia. She denied it, but she had been riding them harder ever since Fury had told them about Project Insight's launch a few days before. Steve tried not to think about the helicarriers potentially watching him eleven days from now as he kept low and ran to fresh cover.

Even if Steve had been less careful, there was little chance of being hit. Clark and Jacobson were consistently wild with their fire and neither was listening to Howard's advice as he tried to get them to set up firing positions. Steve glanced up at the branches of a pine tree where Natasha had perched to watch her rookies try to trap him yet again. She was shaking her head as she watched them move. As an observer and non-partisan in the exercise, she didn't acknowledge his wave. He still followed her gaze with a glance over the top of his current position.

A quick assessment proved sufficient and he ran in a crouch another thick bush. If he fired now, there would be clear headshots on two of his three targets. He'd voluntarily been hit by paintballs in the past to assure that they weren't damaging, though he hesitated to call them painless. Reassuring himself with the thought that real enemies wouldn't be concerned about causing injury, he rose to take two shots. Both Clark and Jacobson jerked as they were hit.

Steve had to dive into the leaves to avoid a sudden barrage from his left. Howard had pulled a flanking maneuver while he'd been occupied with the others. One on one, Steve was almost assured a victory, but he still moved cautiously. There was no reason to discount a Marine's skills. He feinted left, tossing a small stick as a distraction, before moving to his right. Howard was clutching a blue blotch on his chest less than a minute later.

Each rookie took a shot to the stomach as Natasha dropped from her tree a moment later as they gathered in the central clearing. "Seriously, you guys. If you'd actually listened to Howard's tactical plan, you might have had a chance against Steve. He still would have won, but you wouldn't all be sporting fatal wounds."

Howard stood at attention and shouted, "Ma'am, I take responsibility for…"

"Save it, Howard. You're all supposed to be field agents, so you need to either work together or establish independent relationships that don't get you killed." Natasha reloaded her own paintball gun. "Steve, up top. I'm shooting green. Go." He ascended a tree as the rookies dispersed after a quick conference. Natasha remained in the clearing for a full sixty seconds before calling, "Live fire!"

A burst of red paintballs exploded behind where she had been standing moments before. It was a waste of ammunition. Steve followed her progress through the sparse undergrowth below, although he knew it appeared thicker at ground level. The rest of them were wearing camouflage fatigues and SHIELD caps, but Natasha had opted for her catsuit. She hadn't even done anything to disguise her bright hair. It wasn't putting her at any disadvantage. He watched with fascination as she crept up behind Howard and planted a splotch of green between his shoulder blades. The process was repeated with Clark and Jacobson. She called them all back to the clearing with an annoyed sigh. Steve dropped from his post as she was berating them. "…you may survive here, but that won't make a difference in the field!"

"Then tell us how to beat you!" Jacobson nearly whined. "You and Captain Rogers have got all this experience, but you don't share it. Just toss us out here and shoot us over and over!"

"If you wanted to be spoon-fed, you shouldn't have joined SHIELD."

"But…"

"How is it supposed to help you if I tell you what to do, then catch you because you're doing exactly that? You're trying to develop your tactical mind and me telling you stuff as we're sitting in a classroom isn't going to help that. You have to do it. Figure out why you keep getting shot without landing any hits." She flicked her hand at the three of them with a dismissive gesture as she turned away. Steve kept his eyes down as they looked to him for guidance.

They eventually moved toward the trail that led back toward the main building. Steve waited quietly at Natasha's side until her mouth quirked into a small smile at the sound of leaves crinkling softly somewhere to their right.

"Well?" he whispered.

She looked at him as if she didn't have any interest in what was happening a few hundred yards away. "I ordered a catered lunch, so let's start walking."

As they began to move, he spoke at a normal volume, "So, what's going on?"

"What how?"

"You've been in a little funk since you got that phone call on the way over. What's going on?"

She took a deep breath and folded her arms tightly. Her voice was low as she said, "Clint had a setback."

"Oh."

"It's a localized infection, nothing life-threatening, but it pushes back the timetable for the prosthetic. He said it's no big deal, but I can tell he's starting to get annoyed. More annoyed. God knows I'd have turned Stark into a sieve by now." She leaned into him as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "I should get up to New York this weekend."

"Want me to come?"

"You don't have to, but you know I won't say no."

"I don't want to interrupt super-spy bonding time."

He felt her tense under his arm, but she kept walking. He thought it was about what he'd said when he heard two distinct fwips behind them a moment before an impact on his back.

They both turned slowly to look at Clark, who had successfully completed her circle back ambush and seemed stunned by her own actions. "Um…you never actually ended the exercise, so I thought you meant…targets of opportunity?"

Although they'd both known it was coming, Steve didn't feel like Natasha needed this at the moment. To his surprise, she smiled. "Well, I'm glad someone finally decided to pay attention. Okay, we're officially on break. Get lunch and tell the guys to meet back in the clearing at one."

Clark grinned and saluted (with her left hand, even though she could have easily switched her paintball gun to her other hand, Steve noted with a flinch), before taking off at a dead sprint.

Steve nudged Natasha with his elbow once they were alone. "You had plenty of time to duck."

"I thought they needed a morale boost," she replied with a shrug. "Imagine how hard they're going to work this afternoon thinking I'm not invincible."

"You're really good at this. Teaching, I mean."

"I'm good at everything I do." In spite of her self-assured tone, her cheeks were slightly rosy. Steve didn't think it was from the wind that had suddenly picked up. He sprung his own totally-expected surprise and pulled her into an embrace. She whispered to him that she knew about a quiet, little-used conference room that locked from the inside.

He started to worry the rumbling from his empty stomach was going to give away his position halfway through the afternoon training session, but missing lunch had been worth it.


Natasha had no idea why Fury had determined that this was an appropriate first mission for her rookies. Maybe – maybe – she would have agreed to let Howard, as an experienced combat soldier, ride along in the quinjet if it had been up to her, but the decision had been taken out of her hands. At least Clark, Howard and Jacobson were strictly observers on this op, remaining at the command post on the outskirts of Hyderabad. Some local separatist groups had repurposed themselves into rival terrorist cells after succeeding in their originally stated aims. Their current ideology, beyond wreaking generalized havoc, had yet to be ascertained.

Steve was convinced of a Hydra connection because of course he was. Natasha hadn't mentioned that to anyone but Clint, who had understood why she couldn't stop by to visit this weekend without her saying a word about the mission.

She tried to breathe through her mouth in the command post someone had decided to set up beside an open sewer as she, Steve, her rookies and the Strike team stood around a display screen. Rumlow was flicking through a series of maps and pointing out positions for the assault on an offshoot of the Naxalites. "Cap, you're leading the frontal assault while Romanoff takes her team onto the roof to work out from the inside. You three will be here…"

Natasha interrupted Rumlow's instructions to her rookies, "That's not the command post."

"No, it's about two blocks up from here. We're gonna funnel any escapees into a crossfire and…"

"Provisional field agents aren't approved to participate in this operation."

"Hey, this cell is bigger than we thought when we deployed, so it's all hands on deck. If you can shoot an assault rifle, you're shooting." He passed her a tablet. "Fury okayed it."

She bit back a curse and nodded. Her rookies weren't going to gain experience sitting in an observation post, even if she wasn't sure they were ready to… Her spiraling thoughts were steadied by Steve's hand on her lower back. As the briefing ended to allow the entire team to make any last minute preparations, he whispered, "They'll be fine. Give 'em a pep talk."

She walked over to a quieter corner of the post, trying not to react to the fact that her rookies followed without being ordered. Why had she let herself start thinking of them as her rookies? She took a deep breath before turning with a smile. "Alright, more excitement than we expected for your first time out, but still nothing too strenuous. It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel, assuming anyone comes your way. I still want you to stay safe. Armor on, no stupid risks. Are you all clear on your orders, weapons, everything?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Howard stated from his natural position of parade rest. Clark and Jacobson offered more reluctant confirmations as they both adjusted their body armor.

Natasha nodded, aware that they were looking at her compromised protection in exchange for superior agility in her unarmored catsuit. "Okay. We're all going to be fine. Howard, you have command at your position, subordinate to any member of Strike. Understood?"

He was less casual this time, coming to attention and saluting before he said, "Yes, Ma'am."

"Dismissed." She watched them moving to make last minute checks on their weapons and gear. Steve grasped her wrist, a necessary restraint to prevent her from instinctively following her rookies. She was hit by the thought that it was damn lucky she could never have children. She never worried about Steve this way; he was so damn capable it was hard to picture him making a fatal error. He gave her a quick peck on the lips. "We've got this."

"I know." She checked her gauntlets to ensure her bites were fully charged. "We always do." He smiled at her and walked toward the team he would be leading.

The next hour was a blur as she led a team of agents into the terrorists' base to lead the assault from within. She did the things she always did – infiltrating, stalking, killing – with her usual ruthless efficiency, even if she was paying more attention to communications than she usually would. The teams attacking from outside were reporting a successful incursion ahead of schedule and there was no activity at the outposts.

She made it back to the command post with only a minor gash on her forehead. She didn't feel any pain from the wound until she saw Clark, Howard and Jacobson huddled in the corner, deep in conversation. She assumed they were informally debriefing themselves or at least discussing their experience. When she tried to move toward them to provide a more official session, Steve wrapped his arms around her; she barely felt his embrace. "You need some medical attention."

"I'm fine."

"You'll be setting a better example if you get that looked at." He carefully brushed away some hair that had gotten stuck in the blood dripping down her face. "Come on."

"In a second." She pulled away from him, knowing he was right but more concerned about letting her rookies know she prioritized them. She waved them off when they all began to stand as she walked over. "Everybody okay?"

Jacobson was looking at her, stunned. "You're bleeding."

"Yeah."

"How did…?"

Not wanting to recap the entire fight in the narrow halls of the base, she shrugged. "Sometimes you take a minor hit as a trade-off for landing a major one. But none of you are injured?"

She looked them over as they nodded to ensure they really weren't hurt. She started asking them questions while Steve came over with gauze and alcohol to clean her wound. Howard gave a concise report on the action, with occasional details added by Clark and Jacobson. Although her rookies hadn't fired their weapons, Natasha quizzed them on where they had sighted their lines of fire. Steve finished dressing her small cut and wandered off. She pulled them over to the touchscreen and pulled up a map of the area to review details they may not have noticed in the moment.

She was still debriefing her rookies when SHIELD's official involvement ended less than an hour later and the NSG took over operational control. Rumlow finally interrupted her with a snap of his fingers. "Hey, we got a hot one."

"We missed something?"

"Nah, ship's been hijacked in the Indian Ocean. We need to move." He turned to her rookies. "You three are on the next jet back to DC. Go."

Natasha nodded to them. They moved toward the exit as she followed Rumlow. Just as they reached the briefing area, she felt her phone vibrate almost unnoticeably in a pocket on her belt. A quick check confirmed it was a message from Fury. She excused herself, claiming she needed to find a restroom. Ignoring a crack Rollins made about using the adjacent ditch, she secreted herself in a closed off section of the large tent to check Fury's orders. It took a supreme effort of will to stop herself from calling him to demand an explanation when she had finished reading. She deleted the message and made her way back toward the team.

Rumlow was going over the mission specs she had just read, "…pirates are led by this guy, Georges Batroc…"

She leaned against a table beside Steve. Even though she understood that she had only herself to blame for the position she was currently in, she was still annoyed with Fury. She bit her tongue, deciding it was better to seek forgiveness than ask permission. Steve would understand.

Probably.