All Moira had on her was a gun, money and a number for extraction memorised in case things went south. There had been a report of a possible exceptional in Honduras. Moira was to investigate, assess whether they were a threat, then make contact to try and bring them into S.H.I.E.L.D.

The only issue would be tracking them down. S.H.I.E.L.D had provided blurry photos of the exceptional, however they didn't give her much to go on. Once the plane landed, Moira could only talk to locals and monitor the area in the hope that they were still around. No one was exactly sure what the exceptionals' abilities were either which was another factor to worry about. Another entry to an already substantial long list.

After leaving Xavier's home, Moira had been left with a lot to consider. Her mind was torn; on the one hand the thought of seeing Charles or Hank's faces again made her range between nauseous and furious, but on the other after talking to Alex and seeing Sean, a part of her realised how much she missed them all. She had considered them a team once, and at least two of them seemed to care about her to a degree.

Moira had given Alex a card with her number on it, the one for her home that she rarely visited but whose answering machine she checked whenever she could, after he drove her to the guesthouse. The drive had been quiet but he'd given her a quiet reassurance before she got out that he would be staying in touch and that he would be having words with the Professor.

"You don't have to do that Alex." She said sternly.

"It wasn't right." He argued, shaking his head. "Besides, the others deserve to know."

"I think Hank already does." Moira sighed, fairly certain that Hank was the one to get her back home.

"Sean doesn't." Alex frowned. "And I promise you, I didn't either."

"I know." She said, giving him a small smile. "Thanks for the ride, Alex."

"Anytime, Agent MacTaggert." He grinned back, pulling away from the house once she shut the door.

Watching him until he was out of sight, Moira had quickly snuck in around the back to change into civilian clothes before setting off on foot from the guesthouse to rendezvous with the team back at the hotel.

There was a quiet nervousness amongst them when she entered the room - apparently no one likes the idea of having their mind unconsciously probed, even if you do have advanced warning.

"Ma'am." Johnson acknowledged. He was bent over the small table in the corner of the room writing up his report. "I just rang our opps coordinator, your S.O. wanted you to call when you returned."

Moira nodded curtly, crossing over to the small phone and picking up the receiver. She had the number, along with an assortment of other emergency contacts (which for some reason included a direct line to Howard Stark's pool house), committed to memory.

"Agent Carter." Peggy answered.

"Agent MacTaggert." Moira replied, voice crisp and back turned on the welcome committee.

"Status report."

"I entered the mansion after being contacted by Alex Summers. One round fired at Erik Lehnsherr, shoulder wound. No X-Men were injured."

"You used the plastic weapon?"

"Yes, it proved very effective." Moira replied.

"Howard will be pleased to hear of it. I presume Erik survived the shot?"

"Yes. Azazel teleported him and his men out of the mansion."

"How did Summers know where to locate you?"

"Xavier sent him to me when Lehnsherr showed up, although it's unclear how he knew I was there. I also get the sense that this is not the first time that Lehnsherr has arrived at the mansion unannounced."

"I see. He may be consolidating power at a faster rate than expected," she mused. "I understand that the team successfully informed Xavier about our organisation. How do you think they responded?"

"I think they're reluctant. With time, however, I think his curiosity will get the better of him. It's only so long until they'll reach out - probably when Lehnsherr next makes himself known. He knows we've been collecting intel on him, and he should see the logic in consolidating that."

"Noted. Is there anything else that you'd like to discuss?"

"Nothing of significance, ma'am."

Peggy sighed at Moira's failure to grasp the real meaning behind her question. "An S.O. does not merely provide physical training but is also expected to help develop their trainees mindset to cope with the pressures of being a field agent. A relationship that will continue even though you have moved into independent work."

Moira hesitated, conscious of the bodies behind her. Thankfully her S.O. seemed to possess some sort of omniscience. "Do you still feel that you're betraying them?"

"Yes." She replied, trying to keep her voice even.

"Even though Xavier betrayed your trust, you don't feel it's enough to justify your decision to provide us with intel."

"It is a dilemma." She responded carefully.

"Moira. You can walk away from this anytime you want. This assignment or S.H.I.E.L.D. If you don't want to work with the mutants anymore, Fury will reassign you. Yes, it's useful having you on the case but that's not the only reason we hired you. S.H.I.E.L.D needs good people like you. People who aren't afraid to do what's right no matter what adversity they face. Most people who see a room of powered people for the first time would panic and run. You stayed, investigated and were able to realise the lines between the good and the bad instead of categorising them all as freaks. The only question you have to answer is - do you want to never work with them again?

"Think about it Moira. Let me know what you think. Either way I'm your S.O. It's a lifetime job no matter if you quit or finish your training."

Moira lightly cleared her throat, bashful to almost tear up with relative strangers nearby. In her defence it had been a somewhat stressful day. "Am I cleared to return to base?"

"Actually," Peggy said, the sound of shuffling papers audible over the line, "if that is your decision, there is a case that's just come up as a high priority. Go pack and I'll wire the information to you."

"Thank you, Agent Carter." She replied, hanging up the phone.

"I've been reassigned." Moira said, turning back to Johnson. "Is there any further intelligence that you require before I leave?"

He quickly shared a glance with Agents Paige and Buhle, before looking back. "Do you have any idea about the range of Professor Xavier's telepathic abilities?"

Moira took a shallow breath. "On his own he shouldn't be able to hear you from here. If he uses Cerebro, however, he can look in on you whenever he wants."

Her brow furrowed at her own words. "But I don't know much more than that, in the Mutants Division more focus was put on training the new recruits."

"All the information you've given us has been invaluable." Buhle assured.

"Good luck on your next mission." Johnson nodded, settling back in his chair.

Offering a small smile, Moira quickly left for the guesthouse. Once there she packed quicker than she had ever done so in her life, ran downstairs to check out and to pick up her telegram. There was a flight number, an airport code and a operation spec code. She would be tracking an exceptional, considered potentially dangerous.

After her story about needing to fly home immediately for a sick relative, the manager kindly called her a cab and she was back where she started the day before she could blink. With every mile put between her and Winchester, Moira felt herself grow a little lighter.

Her conversation with Johnson had led her to the very plausible possibility that Charles had seen her through Cerebro. It would certainly explain why he knew of her presence and could also mean he had seen her working with S.H.I.E.L.D long before they arrived at the mansion. Long before she got her memories back. The freshness of the encounter made it a difficult thought to process, tearing her between fury and frustration. Fury at the blatant lack of respect for her privacy, frustration because he must have seen what she faced at work because of his actions and yet he'd done nothing to rectify his decision. He'd seen her struggle for her memories and had made no attempt to return them.

Interrupted by the ding of the seatbelt light coming on, Moira noticed they were now in decent. A thrill disrupted her sour mood as the plane touched down on the ground. This was it - her first solo mission.

Her first step was to go to the plaza, where the exceptional was last seen. The black suit she had chosen to wear attracted the attention of the locals, however no one questioned her as she began to assess the scorch marks left on the sides of the building. Peggy had told her months ago in a training session how effective a good suit could be in ensuring people answer your questions but refrain from asking them in return.

Evidently the scene had attracted visitors from around the town. There was an increase in trash around the site and even now, at the hottest part of the day, people were still crowding in the shade to point at the marks with interest.

Remaining alert to the crowds around her, she moved forward to look at the burns. They were contained between two buildings on the edge of the square. The plaster work was badly damaged, the stone itself carved into by the force of the flames. A nearby garbage can had been reduced to a melted pile of metal on the sidewalk. The flames had shot high, easily reaching the second floor. The sides of the buildings didn't have windows but Moira imagined if there had been any they would have been blown out with the intensity of the heat.

From the few details she had been able to pick out from the blurred photos, taken by a travel photographer who had attempted to hand them in to the police only for them to be redirected to a S.H.I.E.L.D liaison, Moira appeared to be standing in the exact spot the exceptional had been standing in. Clearly they could generate fire or perhaps an electrical surge, she thought. Local news agencies had claimed a bolt of lightning had hit this spot and started a fire. What they didn't explain was how lightning could have struck on a bright sunny afternoon.

She moved closer the front of the building. The scorch marks stopped just before the first window, leaving the glass intact and with the sunlight directly shining on it it provided her with a clear reflection of the square behind her. A small flash of light brought her attention to a man. Not wanting to raise his guard, she kept her back to him and regarded him discreetly through the reflection wondering whether he could be the exceptional she was looking for. A man, late teens, Caucasian, blonde hair, sunglasses. Perhaps another tourist.

Turning to scan the buildings Moira allowed her eyes to wash over him for a second. He was watching her but his light hair distinguished him from the dark figure she had seen in the photographs. Possibly from another law enforcement agency, she considered.

S.H.I.E.L.D hadn't cleared her investigation with the Honduran government, so she wanted to avoid engaging someone from another office. She needed to stay low and find the exceptional without drawing unwanted attention.

Moving away from the buildings she resolved to speak to some of the buildings residents to see if they could identify the man who started the blaze.

Chancing one last look across the square she saw the teen was gone.

The buildings were both apartments. She decided to go knock and ask if anyone had seen any suspicious activity, using her S.H.I.E.L.D badge to get them to open the door. Even if no one had heard of the agency, they would recognise it as some form of law enforcement and hopefully wouldn't ask too many questions.

Although her Spanish wasn't as good as her Russian, she was able to hold a simple conversation. After talking with a harried looking woman downstairs in the first building, Moira was able to ascertain that the exceptional was a young man, no older than twenty five. The couple upstairs happily spoke to her, eager to get compensation for their TV which had apparently broke as a result of the flames on the other side of the perfectly intact wall, but they were unable to provide any useful information about any individuals lingering nearby when it broke out.

"Do you think we'll get our claim?" The young man asked impatiently.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at their obviously bogus story, Moira assured him the company would acquiesce before excusing herself.

The building on the other side was closed for refurbishment.

Tapping her foot against the ground outside the building, she quickly stopped when she noticed she was still drawing attention.

If the exceptional was a local it was quite possible he had caused an incident before, so she decided to go to the local newspaper and see if she could find any stories similar to today's. Getting directions, she found it was only a short distance meaning she could travel on foot. Moira spotted the blonde teen again before she entered the building - alarm bells now ringing.

Cautiously she moved to the front desk and asked if the editor or a reporter was available to talk about the recent fire in the square. They sent out a portly middle aged man who spoke broken English and had a stomach he struggled to squeeze through the gate out from the bullpen.

"You have information?" He asked uninterestedly.

"No. I'm wondering if I could have a look at some of your archives - I wanted to see if there were any similar events to the one in the plaza today."

"You police?"

"No. I'm an American journalist, I was reporting on another story when we heard about the lightening strike and thought it could be of some interest. Lightening on a clear day isn't exactly common." She smiled, hoping that he was buying the story she was selling.

"It was no lightening."

"Then what started the fire?" She asked, injecting a reasonable amount of surprise into her voice.

"Don't know. Some people think a boy started it." Bingo.

"Then why did your paper say it was lightening?"

He shrugged lazily. "No one can find boy responsible, can't publish without proof."

"Do you know what he looks like?"

"Everyone we talk to says something different. But I heard a few say they say him run towards the beaches.

She nodded, considering her next plan of action. Heading to the beach seemed to be the obvious step, but there was still the matter of sunglasses waiting outside. Without knowing who he worked for, she could potentially be putting the exceptional in danger if he followed her to him.

The phone rang at the desk and the man hurried to answer it. Moira unbuttoned her jacket as she prepared to step back outside into the intense heat when he called out after her.

"Hey, lady. There's report of another fire not far from here."

"Where?"

"Not far, only ten minutes away. You come with us?" He was already motioning to another reporter nearby who quickly snatched up a camera before coming to stand beside them.

"Yes, of course, thank you."

He nodded impatiently before heading out the back of the building, Moira following hastily behind him hardly believing her luck.