Natasha, her sweaty curls still contained in the bandana, dropped onto the dining room bench. The cabin was spotless. She picked up her glass of lemonade, resting it against her forehead and allowing the condensation to cool her brow. After taking a long drink of the icy liquid, she flipped open Clint's laptop and fired it up. Within an hour, Natasha closed the laptop again, smirking to herself. She was untangling her hair in front of the bathroom mirror when her cell phone rang. Natasha answered the call to hear Maria Hill's low chuckle.

"Nice work," Maria commented. "Stark is beside himself with 'It's a Small World' playing on loop in his lab. It was no trouble at all to get away from the office."

"Diversion is part of my skill set." The assassin replied while another smirk crossed her features. Then her hand went to the arrow charm on her necklace and she was all business. "I want in."

"I assumed as such from your message. I can get what you need to you tomorrow fairly early if you can get to Ithaca, New York. I'll send an encrypted message with the details when I confirm them."

"Ithaca's doable. I appreciate it."

"And on a personal note," Maria surprised Natasha with those words. The only SHIELD agent with a reputation for being colder and more clinical than Natasha Romanoff was Maria Hill. "I was hoping you would call. I'm glad you're okay. It's good to work with you again."

Natasha raised her eyebrows. She knew she was quite the asset in hunting HYDRA agents, but Maria Hill of SHIELD didn't give compliments, only orders. The fall of SHIELD was causing all sorts of unexpected consequences. "Same here."

Natasha lid into clean jeans, a tank top, and another of Clint's sweatshirts, this one emblazoned "Austria – We don't have kangaroos." She fixed herself a plate of crackers, cheese, and fruit and placed it on a tray along with a wine glass, a bottle of Chardonnay, and a book. She bumped the door open with her hip and stopped short. "Well, hello there," she said softly. "You can stay, кошка." The calico cat jumped off the chair and backed up to the corner of the porch and eyed her warily. "Suit yourself," Natasha said with a shrug. She set the tray down on the wide arm of one of the two porch chairs and took a seat.

Pouring herself a glass of the chardonnay, the assassin resumed reading her book. She hoped to finish it before Clint arrived. Even though Natasha felt the genre label on the spine was a misnomer – paranormal, yes; romance, not so much – she knew her partner would never let her live down reading a romance novel. She popped a cube of Swiss cheese in her mouth and felt something warm brush her other arm. The calico cat had hopped into the other porch chair and was sniffing the assassin cautiously. Natasha slowly moved her hand to the cat's back and gently petted her. The cat purred. Over the next hour, the cat, still purring, crept onto Natasha's lap while she read and nibbled.

Bzzt. Bzzt. The calico puffed up and jumped off Natasha's lap. "It's ok, кошка," she reassured the cat as she scanned Maria's message.

Natasha awoke extra early so that she could get in her run before driving up to Ithaca. The calico cat opened her eyes when Natasha stepped onto the porch, but she didn't bother moving from the chair cushion. "And good morning to you, too," the assassin smirked.

She was in Ithaca by a little after 8 am. The coordinates lead her to a hotel whose sign proudly proclaimed, "Welcome Stark Industries Green Energy Conference Attendees." Sitting in the Starbucks across the street, Natasha quickly read up on the details of the conference and examined floor plans of the hotel. Pepper was giving the welcoming address, which would explain Hill being here. The easiest plan seemed to be to check in as a conference attendee and look for her opportunity to catch Hill alone. She might have to sit through some presentations, but all Natasha needed to do was don her suit jacket and some pearl jewelry, and she would blend in. Natasha parked her truck near one of the back doors of the convention center and strode confidently towards the front door.

A red sports car skidded to a stop the hotel's circular driveway, and Natasha froze on the spot. As Tony Stark exited the car and straightened the lapels of his suit, she slid along the wall back towards the truck. "Damn you, Stark," she muttered. With Tony and his penchant for headline-making, this place would be crawling with reporters and cameras within minutes. Even if she could hide from Stark, she wouldn't bet on concealing herself from the media. Shedding her jacket and jewelry back in the truck, Natasha formulated a new plan. She traded out her heels for tennis shoes and snuck back towards the loading dock.

Two housekeepers were smoking on the loading dock and gossiping in rapid-fire Spanish. She listened carefully to their conversation and identified their accents as Puerto Rican. Natasha tucked her hair behind her ears and shyly interrupted, "¡perdón!" In fluent but Mexican-accented Spanish, she asked the housekeepers if there was any work at the hotel.

The older woman, probably in her late 50s, held up a finger and ducked her head inside the door. "Senor Quinn, there is a girl here looking for work."

A man wearing a suit stepped out. "Come up here, girl. What's your name?"

"Josefina," Natasha lied shyly.

"You need a job?"

She nodded eagerly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear again. "Si."

You speak English?"

"A little," Natasha maintained her Mexican accent. "I work cheap."

"With two call-offs today, I could use the help. Ana, show her the ropes."

Ana had zero interest in her new protégé, so in no time at all, Natasha convinced her that, yes, she knew the routine of cleaning a hotel room. As soon as Ana sauntered down the hallway with cigarette and lighter in hand, the spy pushed her cart straight to the service elevator and rode to the top floor. She stashed the laundry cart in a supply closet and scanned the area. That Pepper would be in the nicest suite was a no-brainer – she was sponsoring the conference – but Hill would insist on her own room for privacy. Observing the layout of the floor and considering what she knew of Hill, Natasha narrowed down her options to just three doors. She knocked lightly on the first one before calling out "housekeeping." The room was unoccupied.

On the second room, Natasha hit paydirt. The chain was engaged, but through the crack of the door, she could see Hill's suits hanging up. She cocked her head to the side: she could hear the shower running. The assassin made short work of the chain, snuck inside, and secured the door behind her. Natasha poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down on the bed to wait.

Maria Hill burst out of the bathroom, clad in a terrycloth robe with her hair twisted in a towel atop her head, her sidearm in her hands. Seeing the figure on her bed, she set the gun down on the dresser with a sigh. "Really, Romanoff?" she asked.

Natasha shrugged, her eyes twinkling. "Once Stark came in, I couldn't risk him seeing me."

"Yeah, he decided to join us at about 3 am. Fine. Whatever," Hill huffed. She dropped her suitcase on the bed, flipped it open, and removed the clothes. "I swear you get more like your partner every day." She unzipped a make-up bag and extracted a lipstick case. "Everything you need to access the database is on here. Stark will know you're in, but we've programmed the system to prevent anyone from tracing someone's whereabouts without Stark, Captain Rogers, and myself approving it. If we don't know where you are, we can't lead anyone to you."

"Smart." Natasha commented with an approving nod. She stood to leave. Hill cleared her throat, and Natasha raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow at her.

"You heard from Barton?"

Natasha bit her tongue to keep herself from snapping at Hill. The question was a perfectly reasonable one for the former assistant director to ask, but it made Natasha's blood run hot. "He's contacted me. He seems fine."

"Good," Hill nodded. "We've lost too many good people to HYDRA. I'm glad we didn't lose the two of you."

Natasha just bobbed her head once in agreement before saying. "I'll be in touch."

Back in the truck, Natasha rumbled into a drive through to pick up some coffee. The whole time, she interrogated herself. What the hell was that back there? She turned the conversation with Hill over and over in her head, analyzing the burning anger she felt when the other woman asked about her partner. The fiery rage, she finally admitted, was jealousy. She was jealous of another woman asking about her partner. Natasha Romanoff inclined her head until her forehead rested on the steering wheel. "Боже мой." She really needed to get her troublesome emotions in check before Clint showed up.