Hi, I know it's been a long time since I last updated (life got a little hectic), but I'm back now and hopefully will continue to update continuously for you guys! Thank you for being so patient!

Steve had a sudden realization. He had a job! What would he do when he would be called in for a new mission? He glanced at the cabin. He couldn't leave her in there, could he? She would find some way to escape—she was smart.

Steve also realized how awful of him that would be. She killed people, yes, but was he really going to keep her as his prisoner? He couldn't keep her in there forever.

On the other hand, the walls were thick. There was no was she'd be able to escape, given the state she was in.

But he wasn't letting her go, not just yet. He needed answers and a lead. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s team would be working on this case, but he had a head start with her. And there was no way he was turning her over to them, he was determined to solve this on his own.

Whatever it takes.

So he had two options: keep her trapped in here while he was at work, or have someone watch over her. The only problem was, he knew no one he trusted enough to do that second option. Everyone he trusted was gone—

Steve swallowed. He would have to keep her trapped.

He barged inside.

"Tell me who DAGGER is, now!" The door burst open and the Captain stormed in. His voice was aggressive yet slightly panicked.

Katrina rolled her eyes and laid back down.

He marched over to her and she could see his face from the crooked angle she was lying at. What normally would have been an unflattering angle just made him look even better.

Captain America.

It should have been Captain Perfect.

She scowled at him. "You're wasting your time. I'm not telling you anything."

"No, you're wasting my time." He knelt down again and seemed to have caught sight of the uneaten food in the brown bag. He frowned. "You didn't eat."

Katrina shot up, and despite the agonizing pain that just shot through her body, she sneered at him. "Why? So you can sedate me? Drug me?" Her eyes seared into him, sharp as daggers. She leaned in, so close until her nose was inches from his, her mouth curled in contempt. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Irritation coated his voice. "I didn't drug it, you fool. I'm trying to help you not die of starvation."

Her eyes snapped up to his. She had never heard anything say that word to her. Help. And for a moment, the intelligent part of her brain switched off. Her muscles tensed and her chest tightened and, in that moment, she could feel every nerve in her body. The word reverberated throughout her head, replaying over and over, and as she looked into his eyes she felt electricity buzzing around her skin, her fingers tingling and she didn't understand why she felt this way.

Then the intelligent part of her brain switched back on and her heart morphed back into iron. Help. She scoffed. A part of her pitied him. He tried so hard to put on this persona, so hard to make himself seem unsparing and frigid. He didn't want to let on that he cares more than he wants to, that no matter how much of a tough face he puts on, he will always succumb to his heart, his—

That's it.

Steve tried to look away, Really, he did. But her eyes were too captivating. He had never so desperately wanted to look into someone's past so much. He tried to figure her out, but she was too guarded. Too smart to let on that she wasn't as scary as she tried to let on.

He hoped.

Something flickered in her eyes. There was a tragic sadness in them. She looked down, jaw tightening. And when she spoke, her voice was unusually soft, quiet. "I've been through worse."

Don'tfeelbaddon'tfeelbaddon'tfeelbaddon'tfeelbaddon'tfeelbaddon't—

Steve abruptly shot up and practically ran out the door.

Don't feel bad.

Steve pressed himself against the rough wood and closed his eyes, taking in a breath.

Do not feel bad for her.

She did evil things. Really, really evil things! She almost killed Nat! Imagine how many people she'd actually killed in cold blood! She's a soldier of a terrorist group!

She tried to kill me too!

Steve tried to rationalize this in his head.

But it didn't make sense. It didn't make sense. She was young, maybe in her mid-twenties. No one that young could possibly be as skilled as her unless they'd trained since they were a child, like Natasha—

DAGGER was like the Red Room.

Taking children and training them into being deadly assassins and soldiers. Maybe that was why the girl was so loyal. Maybe it was all she knew, the only family she's ever had.

Natasha rarely spoke about her childhood. Steve understood. He had a traumatic upbringing as well. All he knew was that she was out and the Red Room was destroyed.

None of this was confirmed, but he was sure of it. If there's a new Black Widow Program type operation going on, S.H.I.E.L.D. had to know about it. And fast.

He walked back into the cabin, took one glance at the girl, and sighed. "I'm sorry about this."

Then he knocked her out.

Natasha didn't say anything for a long time. She stared at the white wall ahead of her, her eyes slightly glazed over.

"Well?"

Her sharp eyes slitted back to Steve. "If you're wrong about this then you're risking everything." Her tone cut deep.

"I don't think I am, Nat." He looked at her earnestly. "I could see it in her. The way she spoke, the things she said, her body language. She calculated every situation before she made a single move." His words made her heart jump a bit. Steve's eyes bore into hers. "I saw you."

Natasha looked down. "Did you see scars?"

"What?"

"Scars. On her body." Nat pinned him down with her intense gaze.

Steve shuffled uncomfortably. "Not that I could see."

The air around them was heavy with pain, with trauma. Natasha pressed her calloused fingers against her right forearm, feeling the rough ridge on her skin. That scar was laced with so many memories, memories that Natasha tried to push away, but right now her head was permeated with them.

"Nat?"

Natasha looked at him and slowly pulled her sleeve up. Steve's mouth slightly parted when he saw her scar. A mountain of skin cells clumped together, piling over where the old skin was. It was ghastly white. One look was all it took to know it was a deep cut.

Natasha stroked it. "When I was in the Red Room, they trained us in more ways than just combat. They instilled fear and pain into us; they wanted to make us flawless." She could feel the memory on her body, from her fingertips to her toes. "When we fought, we fought until only one was standing. When we danced, we danced until our feet shattered. They needed us to be perfectly immune to fear, to pain, they needed us to withstand any obstacle that we came across because we weren't people, we were their perfect little soldiers." Her voice became a whisper as she relived the memories, flashbacks replaying over and over again in her head.

She cleared her throat. "Because we had no place in the world. I had an instructor who trained me to become unbreakable. He taught me how to turn pain into power. He trained me to balance the suffering I went through with tranquility. Every time I made a mistake, every time I succumbed to his torture, he made me slice my arm. Again, and again, and again, in the same spot, until the cut didn't hurt me anymore. The stitches weren't the only thing that held me together."

Steve's face displayed controlled shock. His eyes softened and he reached over and rested a hand on Natasha's leg. "I am so sorry, Natasha. If there was any way I could find this man, I would. For you."

Her mouth twitched up a bit. "You wouldn't find him. He's one of the best assassins in the world. After all this time, I still can't figure out how he got his metal arm."

Steve's eyebrows raised. "Metal arm?"

"Metal arm. They call him the—"

The door burst open and a nurse walked in, telling Steve that visitors were no longer welcome at this hour. As Steve got up, Natasha grabbed his hand. "Steve," she said.

He looked back at her.

She smiled. "I trust you. Good luck."

Katrina woke up with her hands and legs tied. On a bed. And, she came to find that her torso was roped down to the bed. Where the hell was she?

She looked around a little to see that she was in a bedroom.

And then the Captain walked in.

"Where am I?" she hissed.

"My apartment. I couldn't take care of you in the woods like that, with no medication or food."

She scoffed and laid her head back down on the bed. She closed her eyes.

And then just realized that this was perfect for her plan.

Katrina was weak, and had no idea how to conduct herself into modern society by herself. She needed the Captain's help, as much as she hated it. If she ran, he would always be on her heels. That's why she tried to make him feel bad for her back in the cabin (before he knocked her out).

Katrina needed time to heal as well as manipulate the Captain into helping her secretly figure out how to escape. She needed to gain his trust.

She needed to make him fall in love with her.

The girl was brainwashed. Maybe not literally, but the point still stood. All Steve had to do was make her trust him. Enough, just enough for her to give information about DAGGER. Just enough for her to lead him exactly where he wanted.

He needed to make her fall in love with him.