A/N: Hi folks, back again with chapter 59, I hope you enjoy. I'll try and get another one out before Christmas.

Another huge thank you to JarvisDaBest for betaing- I keep saying I'll try to make the chapters shorter and it just keeps not happening.

Until a few days ago, Clinton Francis Barton knew nothing about Yelena Belova.

Fast forward, and now he felt he knew everything he ever needed to.

Yelena Belova is Natasha's little sister.

Yelena Belova only ever had a handful of years with Natasha.

Yelena Belova was everything to Natasha.

All those years ago in Budapest, Clinton Francis Barton had never bothered to ask if Natasha was leaving anyone behind.

Whenever he thought of that pivotal moment in Hungary he gave himself a mental pat on the back for a choice that had led to a lot of good. Not once did he stop to consider there might be some bad, too.

It tasted a lot like arrogance now Laura had proved him wrong with the latest entry.

Because there was bad. Manifested in an unsuccessful mission posing as a successful one. The Red Room was meant to be destroyed, but it had festered and grown back and kept all the other girls and young women in a state of suffering. Yelena one of them.

"Christ, Nick," Hill's voice floated through the semi-open back door. In an attempt to process the new information, Clint had slipped outside to his brooding spot. "All those years and the Red Room was still going. How didn't we notice?"

There was a gruff grunt and if Hill got a proper response, Clint didn't hear it as they moved out of earshot.

Pain blossomed throughout his hands. Hot and blinding and intense. His thoughts scrambled to keep up with his actions and it took a few moments to realise he'd slammed his fists against the well-worn railing. And another few to acknowledge that the hot and blinding and intense feeling belonged to his rage as much as it did his pain.

"Lila," Nate called out.

"Ugh, Nate. Do you always have to be so loud?"

"What?"

Cooper complained at the same time Lila responded. There was some quiet, in which it was possible the youngest was pulling faces at his siblings.

"Do we have an Auntie Lena?" He asked at last. "If we do, why isn't she here? Coz, if you guys were gone, yeah, I'd want people."

"Nate–" Lila started, but Clint didn't hang around. The hot and blinding and intense thing boiled beneath the surface and he knew he couldn't contain his feelings. He leapt over the railing and stumbled towards the barn.

Weighed down by emotions he didn't understand.

Yes, he had a habit of shouldering guilt when he shouldn't.

Yes, he felt he had some responsibility for keeping the sisters separated for so long.

But he knew, he knew, it was really the Red Room.

The guilt burned him. More ferocious for not understanding where it came from. It seduced him into releasing his temper. He remembered nothing at that moment. Just that one second he was standing and the next he was out of breath and surrounded by broken things.

Laura found him. Hugging his knees, head resting on them. No tears. He feared he was running out.

Without words, without even looking him in the eye, she knew what was wrong. She settled next to him and wrapped a gentle arm around his shoulder. "Their time together was short. But at least they had it."

Later, he would remember grabbing his tools. Throwing them as hard as he could, one after the other. Against the floor, the wall, the support beams.

Later, he would remember picking up the few breakable items in the barn and smashing them. Against the floor, the wall, the support beams.

Later, he would remember hearing them shatter and thinking that's what his heart sounded like.

1 June 2021

The last few days were busy. Life doesn't stop because of a dramatic announcement on a rooftop in the dead of a night spent remembering my sister, as much as I might want it to.

We got an email from the UN the next day. It summed up what Pepper and Rhodey had already told me. For better or worse, we refused to be cowed. The UN didn't want to support WOOPS? Fine. It just made things more difficult, not impossible.

Then I went to blow off some steam by tracking down one of the pre-Snap's most wanted in Kyoto. Shit went down and so did he when I dosed him with 40,000 volts from my trusty Widow Bites.

Steve dropped by for a visit. Maybe two. Might've been several. I think he's trying to decide what to do for his birthday next month. He's cagey, prefers to hover. Keeps looking at me when he thinks I won't notice. I bite my tongue because it's better than biting his head off.

I planned my self-defence lessons, but intrusive memories often stop me in my tracks. What was a tiny trickle after Thanos had become an unrelenting white-rapid current since last Halloween.

An Asgardian decided to travel the globe. Without telling anyone. Without any idea what the globe really entailed. And, apparently, without any decent survival instincts. I went to rescue him. He'd ended up in the clutches of the xenophobic elite, who were happy to plough money into private projects to visit the stars, but they sure as hell didn't like it when the stars came to visit them.

Lastly, but by no means least, I released the hotly anticipated sequel to the first Avengers quarterly report, which will henceforth be known as the Effectiveness Report. It proved more popular than the first, which probably had something to do with the ongoing investigation that had our friends on the Accords Committee all hot under the collar. The details were scant (why tell the bad guys our secrets?), but enough to reveal there was some contention about the approach.

Rhodey spent a good long while deciding if he should yell at me for slipping that in or high five me. He settled for a stern shake of the head and left the high-fiving to Pepper.

Weaved in between all of that were fruitless hours of insomnia-riddled rest. So, when I returned to the compound after a walk to clear my head, I wasn't all that impressed to find Steve, Pepper, and Rhodey waiting for me.

"The wanderer returns," Rhodey said when I entered the living room, a little too cheery for not much at all. With folded arms, I surveyed each of them in turn to figure them out. If it was WOOPS-related news Steve wouldn't be with them.

"What brings you lot here?"

"Oh, you know, here to see a friend," Steve said, "and to discuss the public meeting Pepper is so keen on."

By public meeting he meant our first quarterly Avengers chat; which will henceforth be known as the Effectiveness Review.

I looked at Pepper and she refused to wilt under my gaze, instead settling back into the sofa and returning my look with her own raised eyebrow and a dare in her eyes. "Need to decide where to hold it," she said.

"And?"

Rhodey cleared his throat and a flicker of something finally disrupted Pepper's steady gaze. It looked a bit like worry, which didn't leave me feeling confident about what Rhodey had to say as I turned to him.

"How about here?"

I kept a composed mask but cold trickled down my spine, freezing my initial response in my throat.

The compound has a press room nestled in its warren of corridors. The first outing it got was a conference to announce that the Avengers' headquarters was moving from a densely populated part of the city to somewhere not so densely populated.

The very last was to let the world know what had gone wrong in Wakanda.

Somewhere in between, Tony proposed to Pepper.

The fear thawed and I bristled. "Absolutely not."

"But–"

"I said no. Any other ideas?"

"C'mon Nat, at least let us know why you're tossing the idea away without even thinking about it properly," Rhodey said in a voice that sounded a lot like it did on the dock last month. And a different fear ran through me as I considered that we might not be as okay as I thought. "It's okay for Tony to bring an entire restaurant staff to scurry about the building but this is a no go?"

There was a lot in me that screamed to look away from him when he mentioned the dinner party, for when there was the party there also came the panic attack. But Steve was looking at me and I knew Pepper had clocked him and, if she was given anything else, she'd solve her puzzle.

Steve knew.

Tony suspected.

I couldn't let a third circle the truth.

But I had nothing in my arsenal to defuse the conversation. No distractions, no tricks, no changes of subject. Nothing.

"We could try where I hold my support groups," Steve said because he was always there, even when it seemed like I had nothing. I dared to peel my eyes away from Rhodey and in his direction. He looked at me with a bit too much knowledge swimming in his eyes. "It's big enough, easier for people to get to, and there isn't much booked in. Could probably get a date that's soonish."

All eyes landed on me when he finished talking and I almost flinched at the weight of them. It was my call, my choice, my decision. I didn't want to do it, but I was the one lumbered with leading it. I didn't know if I wanted it in the same place Steve had been trying to drag me to for ages, but I did know I didn't want it at the compound while the bitter aftertaste of panic still lingered.

So I nodded.

12 June 2021

Steve was right, there was a soonish date available.

It proved as popular as Pepper had anticipated and I had dreaded. Spaces were snatched up straight away, minimal advertising required. And Tony's much more nefarious half saw the opportunity to piss our friends at the UN off and seized it with a lot of glee. The tickets were free but came with an encouragement to donate any amount to the children of WOOPS.

In the following days that dread followed me around like a concrete slab chained to my ankles, my shoulders, my neck. The clock almost ran out and it was almost time to face everyone, but the echoes of fear and panic that had haunted me since Halloween started to swirl into something more solid.

Which is how, on the edge of evening, I came to be sitting on a sturdy pile of wooden pallets in a darkening alley. Rays from the dying sun filtered into the small space, overpowering the unnecessary efforts of the fluorescent light attached to the brick wall behind me.

It buzzed with every flicker.

Fumes were thick in the air, still not enough to cover the faint, lingering smell of the dumpster beside me. Even that couldn't tempt me back inside.

I watched on my tablet as the hired room filled up. All there to discuss a report, like the world's most boring book club. Meanwhile, I hid outside like a brave little Avenger.

A brave little Avenger who'd swiped a couple of sandwiches from the complimentary buffet during my earlier escape. Facing the flock of questions on an empty stomach seemed like a bad idea.

Then again, so did eating.

The tuna mayo sat on my knee untouched. Unappetising.

I flicked from the security feed to the report I knew off by heart, trying to predict the questions that might come up. A gentle thud interrupted, a sharp look over my shoulder and I relaxed. A tortoiseshell cat had jumped down from the dumpster.

It was skinny with matted fur but that didn't stop the hopeful look about it as it sniffed the air, whiskers twitching. I put my tablet down and the cat skittered backward, almost slipping off the edge and into the small gap between the dumpster and pallets.

"Like the shadows too, huh?" I asked, all soothing tones and low volume. It didn't come forward, but it didn't creep further away either. "Or you here for the food?" I took my sandwich apart and scooped a few flakes of tuna, dropping them between us. "No point in both of us going hungry."

It agreed. I'd barely withdrawn my hand before it lapped up what I'd left behind. I did the same thing a few more times, bringing it closer until it was helping itself to the open sandwich on my knee.

"Good?" It carried on eating with barely an ear twitch. The indifference was a surprisingly soothing balm. As if falling into old habits, I ran a gentle finger over its head and was surprised when, instead of being spooked, it started to purr.

Liho.

Her water bowl dusted in ash.

I fought away the revulsion and carried on fussing Not-Liho, because they were old habits and I hadn't realised how much I'd missed them.

Its fur was a little ragged from life, a little gritty from the streets. Underneath, its bones stuck out.

The tuna ran out. The purring stopped. Not-Liho settled on its hind legs, tucked its tail against itself and yawned. All sharp teeth and curling tongue. As dignified as any cat, not even life under the stars could snatch that away.

"There isn't any more," I said. "Okay, there is. But it means going back inside and I really don't want to." It glared at me and started to shift away. Of course it did, because I had to start arguments with everyone lately, even a strange cat. I stretched out a hand to fuss it again. It stilled my hand with a paw and licked the remnants of the sandwich filling from my fingers. Tongue like sandpaper.

"Trying to avoid people," I sighed. "They want me to stand up there and go on about what a great job I'm doing leading the team. Spoiler alert: I'm not." Not-Liho carried on prising every last bit of flavour from my flesh. "Arguing with everyone. Pushing missions others don't want. Not trusting my choices. Pissing off people who were helping us. Getting the kids at WOOPS caught in the crossfire."

We might have decided we wouldn't be cowed, but there would still be suffering and it wouldn't be ours.

I'd sat outside hoping a solution would present itself. Instead, a cat had.

Not the same one that had weaved its way between my feet in the kitchen, or waited on the dustbin outside, or who claimed the left side of the sofa as all her own.

Not the same one who'd sat on my kitchen counter, waiting patiently after difficult missions and long days for me to crack open a bottle of vodka for myself and a tin of cat food for her.

Not the same one who'd listened to all my worries and regrets and secrets. Who became a sounding board for all my theories and strategies. Who was my one-sided confidant.

But it was a cat who brought a similar level of comfort, of familiarity, of camaraderie.

With one final lick of my thumb, Not-Liho removed its paw from my hand and looked up at me. "I wish I knew what that look meant. On Liho it's her keep-following-your-gut look. Problem is, I'm not sure what it's trying to tell me anymore." I sighed again and thought my way back through all this uncertainty and cautiousness, trying to dig out the root of the issue. "I had a panic attack and it scrambled everything. I don't feel like me anymore, you know?"

It tilted its head to one side.

"Course you don't. You're a cat."

My hands strayed to the tablet at my side and opened the security feed again. More people had appeared, the room buzzing just as loudly as the light behind me. A UN suit idled by the main entrance, sent to intimidate me. A ridiculous truth because he looked about as intimidating as a pre-serum Steve.

Pepper and Rhodey were trusting me, trusting whatever decision I made about the mission that jeopardised our relationship with the UN. Now, that was intimidating.

I sat there in the shadows because it was where I felt most comfortable.

I spoke to the cat out of nostalgic habit, but also because if I scared it away, it didn't matter.

And I pretended not to notice Steve hesitating at the mouth of the alley until his looming shadow unnerved Not-Liho and it slunk into the shadows, because all I wanted to do was hide.

24 June 2021

We had a basement in Ohio.

When we first moved in, it was a dark and dusty space. Some people might have called it scary because they'd never grown up in fear. I liked it. Before long, it became mine and Melina's project.

We cleared the leftover junk, cleaned away the cobwebs and dust carpet, added more lights, and it went from scary to hospitable. Then Melina fitted it out with mats, added a balance beam and a few other pieces of equipment she thought we'd need. I wanted to help, but she'd shooed me away.

"Patience, Natasha. Watch. Learn. So when it's your turn you know how."

Yelena never went down there; too young. Alexei was forbidden; too clumsy. It was our space and in it I learned to fight as the Red Room had never shown me.

They taught me to attack.

Melina taught me to defend.

She was limited in her approach. Bruises and scratches and worse were acceptable where we came from but not in the state we were sent to. She did her best to train me, to prepare me, to strengthen me.

"Wider," she'd say, and tap the insides of my feet with her toes.

"Higher," she'd say, and push my fists up with her fingertips until she was happy.

"Looser," she'd say, and rest her palms on my shoulders.

I did my homework each evening, then went to the basement. We drilled the basics again and again and again. It was only when she looked at me, ready for a fight that had yet to come, and had nothing to correct that she moved on.

She demonstrated everything. She inspected everything.

And so did I.

Two rows of people looked at me as I showed them what I wanted. Waiting for me to teach them everything I'd learned in that basement. There were some raised eyebrows at the simplicity I requested, almost as if they thought it wasn't worth their time.

"Learn the basics," I said, "know them, breathe them. Everything else will follow. Your technique works only if you have a solid foundation." It was the same speech I'd rattled off to Wanda, Rhodey, Sam, and Vision when they first started training with the team.

"And how long did it take you to breathe the basics?" A girl asked, she looked to be late teens and a lot more interested in the teacher than the teachings. When she spotted the scar on my left shoulder spilling out from beneath the strap of my workout top, she hadn't hesitated to ask how I got it. I'd given her the single-word answer, gunshot, and felt her eyes on the back of my shoulder when I'd turned away.

"I will answer questions about your training, and I will answer questions about technique, and I will answer questions about other ways to stay safe. I will not answer questions about my training." I kept my voice calm, the sort of calm that had always terrified the team more than my yelling. Frustration simmered within me, the same frustration that reared up right before I started arguments with Tony, Bruce, Rhodey. But I did my best to keep the glower of contempt to a minimum. No one in that room knew something like the Red Room was possible, no one knew how backwards my training was; that I was taught to kill first and defend later, that Melina had me learn and know and breathe the basics every day for weeks before she started on defensive manoeuvres.

"It was just a question. No need to..." she trailed off as her naivety-fuelled confidence crumbled.

"The door's open," I said, "if you don't like it. You're free to go. I have a waiting list full of people who would be happy to take your place."

"No," she said, and snapped her jaw shut when she realised just how fast she'd answered.

"Good." I looked at her and the stance she held. I nodded at her fists. "Higher."

When I came to Aaron, he greeted me with a smirk and a quick glance at the girl, who was in the row in front and three down from him. "Regretting your generous offer, yet?"

He'd signed up for the class as soon as he'd heard of it, which wasn't soon enough. Demand was high and spaces were limited and his name was added to the waiting list. The idea of a friendly face in the room as I tried to slip into the instructor role again brought me more comfort than I would ever admit, so I bumped his name up the list.

Nepotism. I should be ashamed, but I'm not.

Though, it is a little weird to see him get out of a beat-up old car instead of a grocery van.

"Depends. If that's the end of the questions, no. If there's more, then I think one week is all everyone is gonna get."

He smiled and tried to bite back his laugh. The people around us chatted as they tried to guide each other, not paying any attention to the things around them. At some point, Aaron and I had come to an unspoken agreement not to let on that we knew each other.

"Well, I'll be hoping for no more questions. It's nice to spend a bit more time on the compound," he whispered the last bit.

Yeah, yeah. I know. I made a big deal about our Effectiveness Review being at the compound, but in my defence there was no choice. It wasn't even me who constructed that defence.

It was Rhodey.

He'd pointed out that these classes were going to be a more regular thing, which meant more time away from the building if I based them offsite. And as much as FRIDAY had made herself at home on my smart devices, running an intergalactic organisation was just easier from the office than it was on the phone.

There were far fewer people involved with the classes. That meant I could use one of the rooms just off the atrium. The walls were mostly glass, there was a single entrance in and out, everyone parked up out front instead of in the garage, and toilets just across the way meant I could get FRIDAY to shut off the rest of the building so no one could go wandering.

It was as secure as I could make it.

"Let's see if you feel the same after my feedback," I said and nodded toward his feet. "Wider. Your toes are pointed a little too inward. You'll never get good balance like that."

He let out a small noise of frustration as he tried to make the correction and I moved onto the next person.

For a bunch of novices, they weren't as bad as I expected them to be. I circled back to the front and felt as if I was walking in Melina's shoes. It was a thought that careened clear out of my mind when FRIDAY spoke up. There was a lot of confusion from the people who weren't used to the disembodied voice, but Aaron took it all in his stride.

"Agent Romanoff." Her Irish accent floated through the room, and I was grateful she dropped the inside joke with guests present, "there is an incoming ship. Given their trajectory I think they've come from Europe."

Now, given the city's history with invasions and attacks and just weird shit in general, I was a little taken aback that the mood that greeted the announcement was curiosity and not panic. Rather than gathering their water bottles and getting ready to leave for the end of the lesson, they gravitated closer to the windows.

"Thanks FRIDAY. It's probably from New Asgard. Can you contact them?"

A second went by in which gazes shifted from the window to me, and then the AI projected a video call into the room.

"Hi friend." A booming voice filled the room as two people flickered into view. Korg, who had spoken and who filled up two-thirds of the space as he peered closely at the camera, and a very ill-tempered looking Valkyrie. "Val and I just wanted to pop in-"

"Valkyrie. Not Val," she said through gritted teeth.

"-shoot the breeze. What's wrong with Val? That's a lovely nickname. Better than Old Rock Face or Cragfeatures."

"Oh shut up, you annoying lump of rock."

"-or that. That's not very nice, Val."

The longer the conversation went on the more eyes landed on me. And who could blame them, their first brush with something Avenger-y and it was a comedy act.

"You've flown all the way from New Asgard just to say hi?" I asked and caught Valkyrie's eye roll.

"Well, there's some other stuff. Boring official things I didn't listen to," Korg answered before she could, "but yeah, that's the main reason. Been too long since I've seen my book club buddy."

"Oh my god," Valkyrie and I said under our breaths at the same time.

"Can we land?" She said before Korg could get another word in. "We are okay to land, yeah?"

"Yes," I said, "on the lawn like before. Just try to be gentle. Tony's unhappy with the damage all these ships are causing."

"Right. See you in two."

The video cut out and hopeful looks were returned to the window, the bemused looking self-defenders forgetting it was time to go until I ushered them out.

"Same time next week," I called after them as we all filed out to the front of the building, "hopefully without interruption."

Vibrations in the air and a juddering thud of metal against earth told everyone my visitors had just landed, and with none of the grace Tony would have hoped for.

"Looks like you have a fun rest of the day ahead," Aaron said.

"With those two, you have no idea."

He laughed and then paused, as did everyone still getting into their cars. I turned to find the two aliens already approaching, bickering at every step. They didn't notice their audience until Korg stubbed his foot on a raised plant bed and he hopped around in pain.

"Oooooh. Ow, ow, ow, ow. That's gonna smart for days."

"You're literally a talking rock," Valkyrie said as Korg gingerly put his foot back on the ground.

"Yep, still hurts. Oh hey look, people. Hello people. I'm Korg, this is Val. We're your friendly representatives from New Asgard. Even though I'm from Ria and she's left her friendly face at home."

A few of the stragglers waved at him, rooted to the spot by the absurdity their day had taken. Get up, have breakfast, go to an Avenger-run class, and watch a couple of aliens annoy each other. Not exactly a standard day.

"Shall we take this inside?" I asked and gestured towards the entrance.

"Oh no," Valkyrie said and unhooked the bag slung over her shoulder. From its depths she pulled out a decorative wooden box, "I want vodka, lots and lots of vodka. Which is what I'm going to get once I'm in there. So this official rubbish is happening now."

An engine started up and she stared down the person behind the wheel until they turned it off. I looked round and there were still about five people left, including Aaron. I was glad I'd banned the use of any phones while on the property, and had FRIDAY to back me up on it.

"Natasha Romanoff, wielder of the title Black Widow, leader of the Avengers, hero of Midgard, and close friend of King Thor Odinson, the god of thunder," she started, sounding very much like she was reading from a scroll, "on behalf of our King and the council of New Asgard, I humbly offer you this gift in gratitude of the aid you provided our lost explorer. Yada, yada, yada. Do you accept?"

She held out the box for me to take and there was a look in her eye that said I had better bloody accept. I took the box from her.

"Thank you, but this isn't necessary. I was doing my job." I shook the box a little and the noise from inside gave nothing away. "What's in here?"

"The gift of knowledge to help with your noble quest," I looked into her eyes and knew she meant my wish to undo what Thanos had done. I was grateful she hadn't named it in front of everyone. There was no point in getting their hopes up. "It is a copy of all the Asgardian knowledge of the cosmos that survived Ragnarok. No Midgardian has ever been entrusted with this before. And I probably should have done this in private," she looked at those still gathered, lazily flicking her eyes over them as if her incoming threat would be no effort to her, "so if any of you blab about this I will hunt you down and run you through with my blade. Understand?"

There were murmurs of assent, several pairs of eyes studying the box in my hand.

"So, that vodka?"

"Just one more order of business," Valkyrie said and she reached down and unstrapped the sheathed dagger from her thigh and placed it on top of the box, "the people of Asgard have never properly thanked you for your role in securing us a place of refuge on the planet. I have been instructed to offer you and the Avengers our friendship. Which means a lot of in-depth discussion, so I hope you have rooms available and a lot of alcohol. We might be here a while."

A couple of people laughed, but the spell was snapped and car doors slammed shut and engines started up again. Aaron nodded his goodbye, a knowing smile on his lips as he got into his vehicle, which still wasn't a grocery van. What his knowing smile was about, I didn't have a clue.

26 June 2021

Between Valkyrie's vodka-flavoured rants and Korg's riddle-like soliloquies, the cause of her intense state of vexation became clear. Snippets of sense tumbled out and I stitched them together to get the picture.

Thor.

Or, to be more accurate, Thor and his depression.

For a bit more accuracy and in the interest of not making my uninvited guests sound like assholes, Thor and his depression and their inability to help him.

That's all they wanted to do, help. But they were helpless until Thor budged an inch in his darkness to see the sliver of light they offered. Their hands reached out to him. They had done all they could. It was a matter of waiting.

Which made them feel useless.

Which made them frustrated.

Which boiled over and out and onto a ship that brought them across the ocean. Even that wasn't far enough to forget, so on the first night of their stay, Valkyrie made a valiant effort to find a bottle deep enough to lose herself in.

It proved to be a futile attempt. Each of her failures left empty and strewn across the floor, a reminder of the days just after the Snap when alcohol was the only anaesthetic that might work.

Drunk Valkyrie never made an appearance, she never made it past tipsy despite how much she drank, and I can't say I was disappointed. An inebriated Thor was a maudlin one, and this woman who was already so unpredictable when sober? Let's just say there are some questions I don't need the answer to.

A Russian's constitution was not an Asgardian one, so I paced myself instead of getting tangled in the idea of keeping up. I had a lesson with Carol the next day, and the universe was a difficult enough subject matter without nursing a hangover. A precaution I was glad of taking when faced with the glare of FRIDAY's projection and Carol's holo-self.

"Aakon was one of several planets involved in an unexplained phenomenon that stretched across the galaxy," Carol said from the very centre of the illusion. She pointed at the planet and I tapped it for her; holograms were good for long-distance communication but a bit shitty when it came to interacting. A video started to play, an alien landscape that wouldn't have looked so alien if not for the few gleaming buildings and people dressed in robes. For a few seconds, it was peaceful, until a blue sludge bubbled up from nowhere and began to consume all that stood in its path. Its growth was rapid and many of those who tried to outrun it were not successful.

On a different planet, happening to different people, but a familiar sight. Carol studied my lack of reaction. "What is it?"

"I have an explanation for it," I said. She cocked her head to the side, trying to figure out if I was serious. She didn't get very far in her calculations before we were interrupted.

"What possible explanation could you have for it?" Valkyrie asked, announcing her presence. "It's a mystery that got the whole galaxy talking, but it's the woman who's only been to space once that's going to solve it?" One thing about Valkyrie you had to get past was her abruptness. It was never rudeness, it was just her.

"Guess they were talking to the wrong people," I said with a shrug. "Rocket mentioned something when he was recuperating, about how Quill's dad was a planet and tried to terraform more into his image by planting seeds. Seven years ago there was some blue sludge like that on Earth." I nodded up at the paused video. "Rocket's dates matched mine, figured it was linked."

"Well, push me down a mountain and call me a rockslide," Korg said from the edge of the projection, "I think the one-space-trip-wonder did solve it."

"So, this isn't a threat anymore?" Carol asked.

"You'd have to check with Rocket, but I think they killed him."

"Good going, Nat," Carol said, "Might have to show you more of the universe's unexplained mysteries.

"Studying the universe, huh?" Valkyrie asked. "You know, that can take anywhere between a lifetime and eternity to learn. What is it you're after?"

"And who are you?" Carol said, eyebrow raised and arms folded over her chest.

"Brunnhilde. I also answer to Valkyrie, of which I'm the last. You?

"Carol Danvers," my holo-teacher replied, "or Captain Marvel, depending on who you ask. Sorry Nat, I didn't realise you had guests."

"Oh, don't worry about us," Korg said, hand splayed against his chest, "we invited ourselves."

The lesson carried on for a little while longer, my guests from New Asgard chipping in every now and then. I learned about a lot of little things that felt unimportant, but I trusted Carol enough to believe they were tidbits that had earned their place on the syllabus.

Then FRIDAY ruined it all.

"Director," she said, cutting through the facts thrown at me, making Korg flinch, look around and mouth the word 'ghost'. "There's an incoming call for you."

"Who's it from?"

"The head of the Sokovia Accords Committee at the United Nations."

"For fuck's sake," I breathed out and sank into the sofa, massaging my brow. My three companions gave me a curious look. "Voice call only please, FRIDAY. And disrupt any recordings he might be making."

"Very well, Director."

In the second it took her to fade away and patch the call through, I'd swiped away Carol's lesson plan and brought up the digital file on what was becoming my least favourite mission.

"Mr Vesely," I greeted him, "how can I help?"

Now, Tom. You know me. I'm willing to break a few rules (some might call them laws) to complete a mission. I'm resourceful; anything I get illegally, I'll be able to find again through more acceptable channels. And this farce with the committee was no exception. Along with the digital files came a view directly into his UN-based office.

I truly believed in the old adage 'know your enemies'.

And I was truly coming to believe Mr Vesely was an enemy.

He was not alone in his office. Two other people had joined him; I didn't recognise them from the committee and made a mental note to take another look through the personnel files of his entourage. He sat back in his desk chair when he spoke, the phone on speaker.

"You know exactly what you can do, Ms Romanoff." I pulled at the window with the video feed in and it grew bigger, giving me a better view of his features. "You're still investigating my son."

"Yes."

"Despite repeated requests for you to stop."

"Yes."

"Be reasonable, Ms Romanoff." I hated the way he said my name. It was slimy.

"Me? The unreasonable one. That's debatable."

"Don't play games, Ms Romanoff, it's beneath you." He slapped his hand against the table, and though I hardly heard it over the line, I saw the violence of it on the feed. I smiled.

"Then don't insult me, Mr Vesely."

"Is that a threat?" He leaned closer to the phone, and I noticed my three comrades leaning towards the conversation as well.

"I'm a woman of action, not words. I don't make threats."

"Please. We all know the Black Widow has lost her bite." His two companions laughed, one of them turned round to smother a cough. I stood from the sofa to get a better look at his face. Before he could turn back around I double tapped on him and FRIDAY started up facial recognition in a separate window. "Back down, Ms Romanoff. I'm giving you one last chance to do the right thing."

"And yet, it's not me who's endangering the safety of hundreds of thousands of children worldwide," I said, and three pairs of eyes balanced heavily on me. "Tell me, is this an official call? Is this what the UN does now? Use their resources to intimidate their allies? We both know my investigation is justified."

"Forgive me if I don't trust your fabricated evidence."

"Truthful evidence. And it's not me you'll need to ask for forgiveness if your son and his friends are allowed to go unchecked."

"Leave my son alone or I will fight you with the full power of the UN."

I laughed at him and he did a double take on the video. To my right Carol, Valkyrie and Korg exchanged looks and I realised none of them really had the clearance for such a conversation. The two women were warriors, they understood the importance of secrets. Korg did as well, but there was also a chance he wasn't quite clear on what was happening, the politics of Earth had been a consistent weakness of his.

"It's my job to protect the public. I will leave him alone when he is no longer a danger to them. As for the power of the UN. Do I really need to remind you that 117 countries spent two years looking for me and never came close to bringing me in?" Okay, a small white lie. There was that close call with Ross just before Steve and I broke into the Raft, but no one needed to know.

"Then you leave me no choice. The committee is meeting early next week. I will be recommending not only withdrawing our support, but pursuing sanctions against WOOPS. If you continue to demonstrate a clear abuse of your power, then we will extend these restrictions to the Avengers as well."

A positive match pinged up on the facial recognition window. I thought the cougher looked a little off-brand for the UN. An ill-fitting suit, sallow skin, and gold-toothed grin suggested he spent more time brawling on the streets than in an office building. Up came a photo of him in Fisk's shadow and another one with Vesely junior.

Either he'd always been a part of it, or his son was threatening him into political corruption. I zoomed in on the cause of my very own frustration and studied him for any sign of stress and duress. His eyes flickered to the men sitting in front of him, who fidgeted as no dignified dignitaries should.

"You do what you need to do," I said, and there was a slight sag to his shoulder that looked a little bit too much like relief. His friends nodded at each other and made to get out of their chairs. "Oh, and Mr Vesely. If you send anyone after me, you'll never see them again."

I hung up, but kept the video going. The non-Vesely's froze and there was a little thrill of satisfaction at being right.

"FRIDAY."

"Yes, Director?"

"Increase security around the compound. Any movement that's not me, Valkyrie, Korg or a hologram, I want to know. Anything that's even a little odd. Keep an eye on the nearest streets. Anyone that's due to visit the compound, make sure they're not involved in anything suspicious. Alert me to everything."

"Sure thing."

"And FRIDAY."

"Yes?"

"Don't tell Tony. The last thing I need is him flitting around and making things worse."

"Yes, Director."

"What an arshole," Valkyrie broke the silence, "who the hell does he think he is, talking to you like that."

"I've dealt with worse."

"There's a lot on your plate at the moment then, Nat," Carol stated with just a hint of concern.

"Isn't there always."

"You need help, you know we've got your back, right?"

"Yeah, I do. Thanks." I closed down the live feed and turned towards my desk, looking for my bottle of water. It felt like the ground was a little bit more solid beneath my feet. Yes, the Avengers were under threat as well as WOOPS, but it was not coming from the UN. Vesely was being coerced, and a scared man was much easier to work with than a corrupt politician.