Jordan Cole was not that hard to locate once she knew the name. He was in a psychiatric hospital upstate, diagnosed with Delusional Disorder. There wasn't much detail in the file, as he was no longer an active agent, but she had her suspicions where the "delusional" part might come from.

It was ten in the morning and she considered hopping into the car right away, then decided against it. As much as she wanted to do something, anything, to push her search forward, she couldn't do so without resting and her body started to demand it too.

She didn't bother with the bed, just pulled a pillow and a blanket down and curled up on the floor. She would try the bed tomorrow, she decided.

It wasn't an alarm clock that woke her up, but a phone call. It was Clint.

"Hey," she said, her voice raspy. She didn't clear her throat, on purpose. "What's up?"

"Did I wake you up?"

"Yeah, you kind of did. I drove back home yesterday and got here late. I'm sleeping it off."

"Sorry. I just wanted to check if you're doing all right."

"I am."

"How did the talk with Fury go?"

"Just as you'd expect. He told me no and to get my shit in order."

"I always knew he was a smart man," Clint laughed, and she was thankful it was not a video call, for she was not able to hold back a scowl. "So, what are you going to do now?"

She stifled a sigh. "Get my shit in order, I suppose."

"Good call," he laughed. "I knew you'll come to your senses."

She kept silent, letting the wave of anger wash over her.

"You there?"

"Yeah."

"I've got to go. Talk to you later, Nat!" he said and hung up without waiting for a reply.

She tossed the phone away angrily. It slid over the carpet and hit a wall.

Fuck. She knew Clint meant good and that he was saying what he was saying just because he cared but it was getting harder to bear every time. Maybe if she tried to explain, if she told him about… No, Natasha. You can't risk it. You might be able to fool Fury, but Clint knows you too well. He would know. And he would try to stop you.

She knew she won't be able to go back to sleep, so she dragged herself up and into the bathroom.

"And who are you in relation to the patient?"

"I'm his niece, sir."

The receptionist typed away on the keyboard, using just his index fingers. It took a while.

"And what's your name again?"

"Kaylee, uhm, Kayleigh Wallace."

"There's no one under that name listed in his contact file," said the clerk, without looking up from the screen. "And shouldn't you have the same last name?"

"It's my father's name, sir. And my uncle would not expect me to come," she said, amplifying the Southern accent she was using. The man was from Arkansas, after all. "We weren't that close, lately."

"Why?" the man asked, without much interest, and continued typing.

"My mother… I mean, Uncle Jo's sister and uncle, they didn't get along."

"I would have to confirm it with his doctor first," he said, but didn't move to pick up the phone or search for the doctor himself.

"Oh, okay." She made a disappointed face. "Can you do that, please?"

"Uhm. You'll have to wait, miss. Doctor Burgen left a few minutes ago in a hurry and didn't say when he'll be back."

In about an hour, was the proper answer, once he finds out that his seven-year-old son did not, in fact, get into a fight in school.

"Can you call him, maybe?" she asked, smiled sheepishly and brushed a lock of blond hair away from her face. Wearing wigs with hair so short was a lot more comfortable. She might keep it that way.

The clerk grunted, but reached for the phone finally, then pulled out a small notebook from a drawer and searched for the number before dialing it. Very slowly. The reception desk staff was clearly paid by the hour.

He held the handset to his ear for a couple of seconds. "The phone seems to be off," he announced. It wasn't off, but the small scrambler under the hood of the doctor's car was working just fine. "You'll have to wait or come by some other time."

"Can you try again, sir? Please?" she pleaded. "I have a flight back to Jonesboro at eight and I still need to hitch my ride back to New York. My mother would kill me if I missed it."

The man snarled something about insistent brats under his breath but picked the phone back up and dialed the number again, apparently completely unaware of the redial function. The effect was similar to his last attempt. He huffed in irritation. "Wait here," he ordered, then sauntered away from the desk and towards the reinforced glass doors, dividing the atrium from the main facilities. It opened with a buzz when he waved his employee card at the reader and closed behind him.

Natasha stayed by the front desk and discreetly swept the space. There was a camera right over the counter and another one aimed at the – currently empty – waiting area. There was one door leading outside to the parking lot, through a glass vestibule, one leading further into the building – the one the clerk has disappeared behind – and one marked "staff only" in the corner behind the desk, probably leading to welfare facilities which may or may not have their own exit. It was secured with an ID card reader as well. In her preliminary reconnaissance she saw two more exits leading out of the building in the back, but they led into the walled-in courtyard and the gate leading out of it was remotely activated. There was no security personnel she could see, but still, the front door was the most convenient exit route. It would be preferable to just walk out, too, without raising any suspicions.

So far, so good.

She tapped her fingers on the counter with a display of anxiety appropriate for the situation and shifted weight from one leg to another.

There was a tv turned on in the waiting area. The audio was muted, but the images of Tony Stark and the news anchor interviewing him were clear enough for her to read lips. He spoke about the new initiatives in clean energy SI just launched and about looking forward to the future while the reporter batted her eyelashes and fawned at each answer. It was all precooked PR bullshit, cut in bite-sizes for the afternoon television.

Life went on, like nothing has ever happened.

Or maybe not. Stark was hiding it expertly and the makeup did a good job too, but he looked worn, like he wasn't sleeping well. And then, when asked about his post-invasion efforts, he grew jittery and his eyes skittled to the side before he got a hold of himself, flashed a glib smile and offered the reporter a vague, meaningless statement about "making the best of a bad situation" that she promptly ate up.

They all had their demons, it seemed, and being a billionaire superhero didn't make one impervious to them.

"That guy is a hack, I tell you," said the clerk, standing next to her, smiling knowingly. "There's no way it's him in that armor. It's just some poor fella who is not getting any credit. Or a drone."

"I really wouldn't know, sir," she said and smiled back. "How's my uncle?"

"You're one lucky gal, miss. He is coherent enough today. He looks forward to seeing you."

"Thank you, sir."

He waved at her to follow and led her into the facility proper, down the windowless hall and into a visitation room. The floor there was covered with fluffy carpet, the walls were painted in bright colors, there was a children's playing area in one of the corners and venetian blinds did a great job at hiding the bars that secured the windows from the outside.

"Wait here, the nurses will bring your uncle over."

She sat at one of the tables.

A few minutes later the door at the other side of the room opened and Jordan Cole was led inside, accompanied by a male nurse on each side.

With his hair no longer neatly trimmed and unshaved face he looked a lot more disheveled than he did on the photos. His head was down, his eyes firmly at the floor, and his hands hung loosely on his sides as he shuffled in.

The men escorting him let go of his arms and he stumbled forth half a step before he caught his balance. They didn't follow him further into the room. "There's an emergency button there," one of them said, pointing to a red, obnoxious button marked "emergency" on the wall. "Press it if you need assistance." Then they stepped out, locking the door behind themselves.

Cole slowly raised his head and studied her for a moment, then he came closer and sat down at the opposite side of the table.

"Hello, Mr. Cole."

He stared at her for a while longer, slouched in his seat. The pose was that of detached apathy, but his eyes were sharp and watchful. Observing and analyzing. It was a good act, all things considered.

"I'd remember if I had a niece like you," he said finally. "Or if I had a sister."

She nudged her head at the camera in the corner, but Cole shrugged. "Those record no sound, and no one gives enough shit to watch. This is a government funded facility; they won't care as long as I don't stab you with a shiv." He kept his voice low though.

"Yet you're here on your own volition."

Cole sat back and regarded her with a scowl. "You've done the baseline of your homework at least."

"Why?"

"I'm insane, haven't you heard? A danger to society and myself. It should've been in the very same file you've read."

"Are you?"

"Is this an interrogation? I've done those already. You're not going to learn more from me than your colleagues did. You can save yourself the time."

"I just want to talk."

"Here, we talked. You can go back and report that to your bosses, whoever they are these days."

"I don't think I am who you think I am."

He crossed his arms and leaned back further, balancing the chair on back legs haphazardly. "Not my niece, that's for sure," he said.

She smiled. "You don't seem crazy to me."

"I had an alien in my head, how could I be not?"

"Others are fine."

He shrugged. "Maybe I'm just a special case then."

"You're hiding."

His eyes squinted, then he laughed. "Oh yes, and it would work great if not for the procession of agents and shrinks SHIELD sends to squeeze the precious intelligence out of me, every week. I'm surprised the facility haven't installed a revolving door yet."

"I'm not here on the behalf of SHIELD."

Cole drew his eyebrows in and glared at her for a moment. "Well, that's foolish of me to not see that coming. How did they managed to snag you then? Did they introduce you to the machine or just the promise of the brave new world did the trick, agent Romanoff?"

She didn't expect him to recognize her but was still able to keep a neutral expression. "I'm not with Hydra either."

He cringed at the mention then scratched his bearded chin as he pondered on her words. "That's a new approach, I'll the first to admit. Let's assume, for the time being, that I believe you. So, the question is, if you're not with them, why are you here? How do you even know about them? And me?"

"From Loki."

The cynical skepticism disappeared from his face in an instant and he stared at her. "He's back?" There was a note of uncertainty in his voice. "What does he want from me?"

"Nothing," she said. "But I would like to talk. Because, judging from what Loki told me it looks like we might have a common enemy, agent Cole."

"And you believed it?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons that are not important in this discussion. The point is, I know what Loki saw in your head, I know what he told me about it is true, and I need to get to the bottom of this, before more lives are lost."

Cole stared at her for a moment longer, then lowered his head. His hands were curled into fists on his knees. "I never asked for any this to happen," he muttered.

"I know."

He sighed. "I don't know how much he told you, how much he saw…" He paused, straightened up and looked her in the eyes. "It is out of your league. Out of your Avengers colleagues' league too. You have no idea how deep it runs."

"That's what I want to find out. That's why I'm here."

He shook his head. The pity was evident in his eyes, even if she wasn't sure if it was meant more for her or for himself.

"How much do you remember?"

He fixed his gaze on her, observing, judging and weighing his options, before he finally spoke. "I remember… everything, more or less."

She blinked.

"Whatever it was that our alien friend did to me… It opened something. A sluicegate, that was left closed, hiding all the memories they didn't want me to have, and it all tumbled out, piece by piece. I may understand little of the meaning behind them, can't put them in a proper order, but now my experiences makes sense, at least. It's a blessing and a curse, all in one. And I don't want this to change. I don't want this to go back to the way it was before. As long as I'm here, I'm not a threat, just a crazy guy stuck in a loony. No one would believe me, even if I talked, and getting to me is too much hassle. But once I make a step outside, they will find me and they will wipe me, making me their puppet again. And I doubt that I'll stumble upon another alien who decides to play with my mind and inadvertently frees me from their control anytime soon."

"You don't resent Loki for what he did to you?"

Cole shrugged. "I suppose I should, shouldn't I? That's what the shrinks here keep on telling me. That would be a healthy reaction, they say. A proper, sane one. But I can't, not truly. I know it wasn't his intent, just a collateral effect of his meddling, but he freed me, whether he meant it to happen or not."

"I think he did," she said quietly. She couldn't tell Cole a lot more, but that much he deserved to know. "He recognized the control Hydra had on you for what it was and tried to lift it, only it didn't work out as intended."

Cole let out a drawn sigh. "It seems I'll have to thank him if I ever meet him again. But most of all I hope I won't."

Natasha smiled at him encouragingly. "Can you tell me what you remember, then? Any detail might be useful."

Cole licked his lips. "I still haven't sorted it all out fully. I don't think I ever will. I know they conscripted me when I was fresh out of the academy, just as I joined SHIELD. Their ideals looked promising to a young, naïve man I used to be. It wasn't just me; a lot of recruits fell for their trap. We were promised we are to be a part of something bigger, something larger-than-life, a part of the new world order where the law and justice rules, not money or power or strength. Where threats are eliminated before they can act, creating safer, happier society of the future.

"For a time, it was good. My orders from my superiors in SHIELD and my secret bosses aligned and it felt like I was just providing oversight, making sure that SHIELD operated within law given to them by the people we were employed to protect. It didn't last all that long though. The higher in the hierarchy I got, the more questionable the orders grew. I was asked to share classified information or carry out sabotages on the missions my unit worked for months. All the time I was told it's just a part of a greater plan that I can't yet see in its full glory and that the time will come, and I believed, because what else was I supposed to do?

"Then I became an authorized field agent and with that came the more covert operations. Kidnappings and assassinations carried under the SHIELD banner but serving other purposes. At that point my whole team consisted of insiders, so there was no need to hide our true allegiances between ourselves, we just had to take care of bystanders. And take care we did…" Cole's voice wavered, and he cleared his throat, then rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "There could be no witnesses because the world was not ready for the great plan yet. It didn't matter if they were guilty or innocent, if they knew, they had to die. I started noticing things, too. Not everyone was in because of the ideals, no, some were there just because they enjoyed the violence, the blood, the killing. Being a part of Hydra allowed them to carry out their dark fantasies without consequences, outside of the jurisdiction of law. Only then I realized I've become what I was promised to fight."

"You wanted out."

"Very much. But it's a one-way ticket, you either serve them or you die, especially someone as deep in as I was. At first it was just threats. They knew where my mother lived and they described, in a great detail, what they will do to her if I betray them. So, I stayed for another year, pretending I changed my heart, until I found an opening. I had a friend who I could trust, who promised to organize a safe passage for my mother to a remote place in Canada, while I deserted during a mission in Chile. I hoarded evidence I thought would help me make a case. Mission reports, surveillance materials, material evidence I was supposed to destroy. I intended to send it all to the authorities."

"The authorities?"

"NSA, CIA, Department of State, whoever else it might concern."

"It didn't work out."

"I thought I covered my tracks, but it took them just three days to find me. I thought they would kill me, like I was ordered to kill all those people, but I wasn't so lucky. I don't know why. I'm nothing special, I should be expendable, just another MIA agent, like dozens of us every year. But I must have my use, because they still brought me back to US and ran me through the machine. Over and over and over, until there was nothing left of who I was. Everything after that is just… a jumble. A painful mess of unconnected memories. The longer the time between the sessions, the more aware I grew, more of me came back. I think I tried to run, once or twice. And they brought me back and wiped me, making me their mindless slave again." Cole took in a long breath, rolled his shoulders and gestured around. "This isn't perfect, but at least I'm allowed to think for myself here."

"Can you tell me more about the machine? What is it, how it works? Where they keep it? Loki guessed it induces a state of hypnosis but couldn't say more than that."

"I… I don't know," Cole said. His efforts to keep a straight face were even more evident now. "I couldn't see where they were bringing me, it could be a different place every time. Then I was strapped to a chair… and there was… pain. Lots of it. Electricity, I suppose, and flashing lights and blinking images. Some trigger words too, I think… I can't make out more than that, it's all a blur, even now."

She nodded in acknowledgement. It was obvious he didn't know how the technical side worked and pushing him on it wouldn't do anything but traumatize him all over again. "Do you know what their endgame is? Control for control's sake doesn't mean much. They have to be playing towards something."

Cole shook his head. "I only know what I've been told. The brighter future for all mankind, but we both know how much of a bullshit this is."

"Do you still have the evidence?"

"No. I sent it out immediately and kept no copy. I didn't want to risk it."

"You've sent it? And?"

"I think you'd have noticed if there was a senate committee on a secret organization growing inside US government structure. It was either interjected or just swept under the rug."

Shit. "How deep does it run?"

"Given the amount of freedom they operate with, they must have at least their unit directors, not only in SHIELD but in other agencies as too, but it might run as high as Fury just as well, or even the World Council for all I know."

She did her best to school her expression. That was worse that she anticipated, much worse. "Do you know any names?"

"Some, but only people on my level, and it's likely it's not even all there is. You're safer to assume it could be anyone you didn't vet yourself. And the hierarchy is strict. I only received my orders from one person this whole time, I have no idea who stands above them. There are others, in the memories, but I can't put names to those faces, no matter how hard I try. I'm not sure if I ever learned them."

"Above whom?"

"Jasper Sitwell."

She bit down a curse.

"It looks like you wasted your time coming here."

"To the contrary, I found our conversation very educational," she said as she worked to unclench her jaw. "You didn't tell any of that to anyone yet, is that correct?"

"Of course I did not, I'm not a moron."

"Yet you told me. You don't believe me, and you told me nonetheless."

He shrugged. "If they managed to get to you, I'm dead anyway. Besides, you strike me as someone who is good at listening."

"Yeah," she smiled and couldn't help it when it turned out a tad bitter. "I've been told that before."

"Agent Romanoff?"

She inclined her head to indicate him to go on.

"What do you intend to do?"

"I intend to solve it, even if it takes burning SHIELD to the ground," she said, meaning every single word.

She stopped by the reception desk on her way out, with a small stumble in her steps that made it look like an action taken as an afterthought.

"Thank you for helping me out there, sir," she chirped and smiled sweetly, leaning over the counter. "It was really great to talk to my uncle again."

"No probs, miss," the clerk mumbled, trying to not look at her chest just inches from his face and failing miserably.

"I hate to ask you for one more favor, but it took longer than I thought, and I won't have time to stop to print out a boarding pass for my flight. Would it be much of a problem if I asked you to print it for me?" she said, pointing her chin at the device on his desk.

"Sure," he said with a shrug.

"Here." She handed him a thumb drive. "It's the only file there."

He plugged it into his computer and fumbled with the printer driver for a couple of minutes, unaware of the small yet very effective program that was just embedding itself into the facility's internal network, deleting every file created in the last two hours. Better safe than sorry.

The clerk handed her the print and the drive, and she thanked him briefly, just as Doctor Burgen stepped through the front door. He looked pissed when she passed him in the foyer and headed towards the main gate to get to Stark's car she parked around the corner.

She drove back to New York, her brain reeling from the info Cole provided. Jasper fucking Sitwell, of all people. The dude who went to movie trivia nights at local bars and bought his coworkers juice boxes in cafeteria. Then the entire Strike Squad Lambda, the unit Cole was the part of before he was transferred to the guard duty in armory, probably to keep him out of sight but still with full SHIELD credentials. Then fuck knows who else.

This was bad. Really, really bad. For her, for Loki, and for everyone who wasn't Hydra, be it a member of SHIELD or otherwise.

That also meant that her every contact, every piece of her extensive web of helpers, enablers and informers could be a double agent, working for a damned new Nazi world order.

She was almost certain Clint was on her side, but he was also the only person she couldn't go to, at least for now. Fury was most likely out of it, too, he was sticking to his ideals too strictly to get lured with any promise like that, but her surety got somewhat diminished by his refusal to help. She couldn't risk going to him, not right now. Later, she would. Hydra wasn't going anywhere and ensuring Loki's safety was the priority now.

Everyone else could just as well be her enemy.

Besides Loki.

The irony made her laugh so hard she had to pull over and get herself in order before she could continue.