'I still don't understand why we have to go off-base,' Fitz grumbled from his seat in the quinjet. 'We have dozens of agents on base who don't know who we are. We can practice on them.'

May scoffed quietly from the pilot's seat. Everyone knew Fitz was the talented Scottish senior engineer with an astonishingly high rank despite his relative youth. Espionage lessons definitely would not work on base. May was about to turn around and correct him, but Jemma beat her to it.

'Oh Fitz,' Jemma chided him gently. 'Don't be silly, everyone knows who you are. And I'm the head of the science division so that wouldn't work either. May's right, if we're going to practice passing for people we're not, we need to practise on someone's who's never met us.'

Fitz folded his arms and stuck out his chin. Even if Jemma was right, as usual, he didn't need to be happy about it. 'At least will you tell us where we're going, May?' he called out towards the cockpit.

'New York! Upstate New York!' May yelled back. She smiled. One of the perks of the cockpit was that she could smile without anyone seeing it. Helpful when the smile was because she knew something that she didn't want her passengers to know just yet.

The quinjet landed in a grassy field, and the trio strode down the cargo ramp. May was dressed in full tactical gear, and led the way. Jemma followed, clad in a floral summer dress with her hair flowing over her shoulders. She had a handbag over one shoulder and a clipboard in her free hand. Fitz was last to exit, wearing his usual shirt and trousers, except today he had added a navy tie embellished with a tiny, embroidered spanner.

Once they stepped off the cargo ramp, May clicked a button on a remote in her hand, and the cargo ramp lifted. Cloaked, the quinjet could not be seen.

'Okay, before we enter, let's run the covers again,' May said. 'Simmons, you are-'

'I am,' Simmons said quickly. 'A high school teacher with seven and a half year's experience teaching biology and chemistry to juniors and seniors.'

'Good, and Fitz is-'

'-my husband.'

May pretended not to notice Fitz's pale skin flush with redness. She nodded at him to take over the briefing.

'I-uh...hem.' Fitz had to clear his throat before continuing. 'I am a mechanic at a small garage. I own the business. Jemma and I are exploring non-traditional education options for our six-year-old son.'

'Good, and your son's name is?'

'Phillip.' They both answered at the same time.

'And your last name is?'

'Johnson.'

'And Jemma, your maiden name is?'

They hesitated. Fake Jemma's maiden name hadn't been discussed. May watched them expectantly.

'Peterson,' Fitz blurted. His face grew even redder, and he fiddled unconsciously with the fake wedding ring on his left hand.

May's eyebrows went up, but Jemma seemed to take this in her stride so she didn't question it either.

'Okay, let's go.'

The building was huge. White marble pillars divided up the huge expansive space inside. The high ceiling gave way to natural light through a series of sky windows, reflecting off the glass of the office doors. Their footsteps echoed on the polished hardwood floorboards as May led them up a flight of stairs and towards a corner office. She knocked smartly on the door.

'Come in!' A woman's voice called out, her American accent laced with the slightest hint of Eastern European flavour.

May pushed open the door, and held it open for Jemma and Fitz.

'Jemma and Leopold Johnson, ma'am,' May announced.

The 'Johnson's' staggered into the office and found themselves face to face with a young woman in a tactical suit very similar to May's, sitting sideways on a spinning chair at the large meeting room desk. She had been leaning back casually, resting her crossed legs on the table She had evidently been reading a stack of files, and she put down the one she was holding and swung her legs off the table, leaping to her feet with remarkable grace. Stepping forward, she stuck out her hand towards them.

'Pleased to meet you, Mr and Mrs Johnson,' she said. She flicked her head to throw her wavy red hair out of her face, and her shocking green eyes seemed to pierce right through them, and suddenly their carefully crafted back-stories felt paper-thin.

Jemma and Fitz suddenly realised that they were face to face with none other than Natasha Romanoff.