"Peter!" May jumped up from her spot on the couch when she saw them walk in . "You're back so early! I-" she fumbled for her words. She was clearly trying to keep her tone casual, but the relief behind it was unmistakable. "- I made pasta. It's on the stove, if you want some."

Peter smiled reassuringly at his Aunt. "Sounds great, Aunt May, thank you. Katya and I just have a little bit of homework to finish up."

The room was exactly as they'd left it, save for the lego pieces Ned had packed up. Katya couldn't help but realize with a pang how empty it felt without them. She wished they could have just kept doing that, instead.

They settled in onto the bottom bunk, their backs to the wall, and Katya pulled out her laptop. Placing it between them, her bowl of spaghetti perched precariously next to it, she finally opened the manila envelope, dumping out the contents onto her lap. There was a USB, as she'd correctly guessed, a black tube, some sort of wristband -almost like one of Mr. Stark's watches, but the face was black as it was turned off- and a handwritten note. It was in Russian, of course, so Katya read it to herself first.

I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important. But we all deserve our freedom. You can do this, my Little Mouse.. If anyone can, it's you. I don't know how long she'll be in New York, because I can't find the orders on her file, so best to act quickly. I"m not going to wish you luck because you don't need it. Much Love.

Y

A slow churning filled Katya's stomach with nerves as she reread the note to herself before translating it for Peter's benefit.

Peter, ever patient but face filled with concern, simply ate his spaghetti in silence, waiting for her cue.

"I think I know what this is," She muttered, half to herself and half to Peter. She grabbed the USB and plugged it into the computer.

Immediately a program popped up, with a black interface and red text, as if trying to be foreboding. The entire thing was,of course, in Russian, so she explained it to Peter as she navigated.

"This is one of Dreykov's old files," she told him, scanning the filenames that appeared on the left side in a folder. She had no clue how they got it. A drop down list appeared when she'd clicked open the one labeled 'stationed', which was full of names- Widows he'd implanted around the world. Some of the names were greyed out, and with a pang Katya scrolled passed her own name- she'd read that later, she couldn't handle it now- and came across the single one that was highlighted. She clicked on it.

Instantly they were met with a picture of a young woman that Katya vaguely recognized as a few generations her senior- probably in her twenties, now- with a dark complexion and the same vacant,empty eyes that all their file pictures had. An expression she'd seen too many times on too many people after they Graduated.

"Anezka Petrova," She read out to Peter, "Twenty five years old. Strengths: Sharpshooter and Sambo" Katya inwardly grimaced. Of all the martial arts forms she'd mastered throughout the years, Sambo was easily her weakest. "Stationed: Belarus, 2010-2015. Brooklyn, New York, 2016-" Katya swallowed "- to present."

Peter put a hand on her knee, balancing his spaghetti in the other. "And what does this have to do with you?" He asked softly, though Katya felt like he already knew the answer. Katya grabbed the black tube from between them and popped it open, sliding out a vial that held a portion of red liquid. Just as she'd thought.

"I've got to wake her up."

— —-

Katy'd scanned the rest of the file as best she could, but there weren't any mission notes on Anezka's page. She could be anywhere in Brooklyn, and New York had so many people- Without the programming, Katya didn't have a good grasp on the current country's relational politics,which was usually what Dreykov aimed for, but searched what little information she had her brain about it to see if there was anyone she could come up with that would require a silent assassination.

"Do you know of anyone who's important politically that might be in the area right now?"

Peter dropped from where he'd adhered himself to the ceiling so he was now hanging upside down. "Not at all. I'm not good at keeping up with that stuff."

"Me neither." Katya grumbled, and opened up a window to do some google searching. "She could be literally anywhere."

"Maybe Aunt May would know,she keeps up with the news-"

"We are not involving your Aunt in this."

Peter dropped the rest of the way down from ceiling."Of course not.I'm sure there's a way to ask her without raising suspicion. We could say it was for school, or something"

Katya shifted on the bed, nearly knocking her half-full bowl of spaghetti over, but managing to save it in time. Ever since they'd opened the letter, her appetite had all but disappeared.

She'd read the letter again a few times, mostly to soak in Yelena's handwriting than anything else. They'd only spent a short time together in all reality, but it had been the most significant part of her life. Yelena had saved her, and she could never repay her for that.

Plus the little scrawl on the envelope itself- For the baddest bitch I know. Of course she'd say something like that.

Suddenly, Katya realized- between the emotions this was bringing up that were hard enough to shut down on their own- she hadn't checked out the watch thing. It was probably a tracker- how could she have been so stupid-

She fiddled with the buttons on the edge of the watch-like face until it blinked on, showing a few menu options. Katya selected track, and was met with another drop down list of one didn't match the one on the file- all the names that had been grayed out on the computer file were no longer listed, which confirmed Katya's suspicions about them with a heavy drop to her stomach. It meant they'd been eliminated. Instead, this drop down listed different names grayed out, and she recognized a few of them from the ship she'd spent some time on with the other Widows on their way to meet Mason, her own included. This must have meant trackers that were no longer active. Her own lay in the mountains of Siberia, somewhere.

Peter flopped on the bed beside her, saving her bowl of spaghetti from nearly falling over again, and, as if on second thought, set it to the floor. "What's that?"

"It's a tracker, and I'm an idiot." Katya murmured, scrolling down the list of names until she could find Aneszka's. She selected it on the touchscreen and immediately a translucent map of New York materialized, before zoning in on a particular block in Brooklyn. Exactly where Yelena said she might be.

Peter jostled her leg. "You're not an idiot." he left his hand on her knee, which was comforting. "There's a lot going on."

"Well she's right there-" Katya leaned over to show him the tracker's interface. "We can keep tabs on her through this."

"That's great!" Peter repositioned himself so he was sitting next to her again. "We can stake her out for a while-"

"-And then figure out the best time to strike." Katya finished for him, nodding. Relief flooded through her chest, grateful for Yelena's forethought. This thing would be a lifesaver. Peter flung an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"We got this, Katya. It's just another mission."

He said another as if they'd gone on anything official before- she wouldn't consider patrol missions, and the Vulture hadn't exactly been a sanctioned endeavor. And this one might not be either- Katya realized she wasn't sure how she was going to approach this with Tony. She didn't want him interfering- this was her job to do- but she needed a suit.

— —

Katya'd wanted to go back to the compound immediately, but Peter'd pulled out his spare box of Legos and she was sucked right in, grateful for it. Sometimes he seemed to know what was best for her better than she did. She left the tracker, on of course, on the bed, just in case it beeped, indicating any movement. So far, it'd been silent.

Peter set down the hexagonal pyramid he was building to root through some more pieces, silently handing the orange ones to Katya, who was working on some structure that she guessed looked kind of like the compound but gradiently color coded. She'd already finished the red portion, and had collected some yellows, but was using her oranges next. They built while chatting,mostly about Peter trying to regale the bare bones of Star Wars to her so she wasn't too lost when they restarted the next half of the movie whenever Ned came over next. He handed her a few more orange pieces, which she took gratefully, squeezing his hand. He squeezed back, but almost hesitantly, so Katya glanced up at him and was surprised to find his own demeanor somewhat perplexed.

"What?" She asked, somewhat flatly. He probably had more questions about the Red Room, so she steeled herself to start an explanation.

Peter leaned back a bit on one hand, rubbing the back of his neck with the other. It took him a moment to answer. "This is probably poor timing, but…" he trailed off, frustratingly.

"But what?"

"But…what are we doing?"

Katya raised an eyebrow. "We're building Lego." Somehow she felt like that wasn't the answer he was looking for, but didn't know what else he meant by it.

His face reddened. "No, I mean…we never really talked about our kiss." There was a beat, and he began to ramble. "Or any of the kisses after that, or ...you know. How we are with each other. Like I really…really like you."

It was Katya's turn to be perplexed. "What is there to talk about?" She shrugged, her own face heating up, and she dropped her eyes back to her Lego structure, wedging one out from under her knee that had somehow gotten stuck there, painfully. "I really really like you too. And I like kissing you." "

"And I like kissing you too!" He said, a little too quickly. "I don't want any of that to change, but does that mean that we're…you know, dating?"

Katya shook her head in bemusement. "I still don't think I understand that word entirely, but if it means it's two people who care about each other very deeply, then…yes?"

Peter grinned, though his face was still scarlet. "That's exactly what it means." He picked at the Lego pieces before him listlessly, probably more for something to do with his hands than anything else. "So would it be okay if I called you my girlfriend?"

Katya shrugged, adding a row of orange to her structure. "You can call me whatever you want."

"No, I mean like…there are rules, sort of, in dating-"

"-Rules are stupid."

"- and like, if you're my girlfriend, then I'm your boyfriend, but that word sounds so weird-"

"Why's it weird?" Katya didn't look up but arched an eyebrow, now beginning to connect the yellows she'd collected. "You just said that's what they're called."

Peter rubbed the back of his neck again- if he kept this up, it was going to be raw. "It's just that I don't feel like it …fits. It sounds so trivial. Girlfriends and boyfriends, they can fight, they can break up easily, there's drama and miscommunication…" he trailed off on his ramble momentarily before seemingly collecting himself. "I just don't feel like that's the right word for us."

"Like I said-" she glanced up at him through her hair, her hands still working with the plastic, "You can call me whatever you want."

"Well….what am I to you?"

Katya looked at him oddly. What a silly question. "You're my pauchok."

"But you said friends call eachother that-"

"And we are friends. Who…" she searched for the right words, "kiss and do 'boyfriend girlfriend stuff.' Right? Just because pauchok is a nickname doesn't mean I hold it to any less importance You're just…." She searched for a better way to explain it. 'My person."

It took Peter a moment to process her words before nodding. "I'm your pauchok." he repeated, stressing the possessiveness of the phrase, "and you're my myshka. My person." He smiled. "I like that."

"So then why all the nervousness?" She gestured to his arm, which was still resting on the back of his neck, but at least not rubbing it anymore. Peter shrugged.

"I don't know, most people feel the need to give this sort of stuff a label and I…It just doesn't feel like we need one. And I wasn't totally sure you liked me like that."

Katya smirked, and leant over the pile of Legos between them to close the distance. "Liked you like this?" She stamped a kiss to his mouth, which he hadn't been expecting but returned immediately. She grinned, pulling away. "I do like you like that, pauchok. I like you like that very much."

Peter grinned and smoothed her hair, his hand pausing for a moment on her cheek. "Then…good. That's sorted." He nodded, as if trying to convince himself as such.

Katya sat back and returned to her Lego pieces. What a weird conversation. Of course she liked him. She wouldn't be here if she didn't. Did he not see that?