That was a new voice. I tensed, and watched as a tall man in black leather strode in, back straight and stance strong. He was a man who had seen war, but was aware of the law and its consequences.

"Why not, Director Fury?"

"Because I have your records, Anastasia Jillian Romanova-Kirdan."

"Pleasure." I stated drily, leaning back in my seat. "Do you want my entire life on display for the buffoon Tony Stark and his band of merry men and Natasha Romanoff, or can we talk someplace where his idiocy will not dull my intelligence?" I smiled a crocodile's smile. Fake and forced. I had perfected it.

"Of course. We will discuss this matter somewhere else." He left the room, I stood and followed him, and unsurprisingly, Natasha did as well, falling into step with me.

"I told them nothing, Casca."

"I know, Nova, do not worry. Director Fury most likely wishes to lecture you in addition to myself on several topics, one of them being my criminal status, how you kept a secret from the agency whose secrets have secrets, and other things that I have yet to think of."

Nova flashed a smile, one that I still noticed even after all of those years. She was happy, but did not want to admit it.

We entered another room. Director Fury pulled out a device and pressed a button, most likely turning off all of the cameras. Then he pushed a file across the table, presumably where he wanted me to sit. I did so, sinking into it gratefully, and although I would never tell the man, I was grateful that he always let me sit down when we met. He may be a spy that could be a wonderful assassin, but he had manners. I opened the file, and saw each of my kills, including pictures of myself with each man, gouging out their eyes with two thin knives. It was my trademark. Then they had Braydon and I, together, holding hands outside our old house, him meeting me in the elevator. The coffee shop. I schooled my face impassive, and turned to the last page. It had a profile of myself, including a presumed physical and psychological analysis. Clipped onto the page was a picture of one of the many pregnancy tests that I had taken. There was a note on it stating "Mrs. Kirdan: Pregnant."

I shut the folder. "What do you want with me? I am of no use to you. I cannot tell you anything about my superiors, because I am a grunt, I go in, and I kill, I get my money and I am done until they need me again. It is not as if I can fight for you for the next eighteen months."

Natalia had picked up the file, flicking through the pictures and statistics of those I have killed as if that did not bother her, she stopped when she saw Braydon.

"Mrs. Kirdan?" She asked, her voice low. I nodded solemnly, staring straight ahead.

"We want your cooperation, Mrs. Kirdan."

"Ms. Romanova, if you please."

"Of course. You will supply us with what we need, at our request, and we will supply you with safety from whatever organization during and after your pregnancy."

I nodded numbly. I had little choice in the matter. The Director of S.H.E.I.L.D. left the room in a quick movement of dark skin and leather. He left the hand-written file on the table. They must have multiple copies in their base.

"Anastasia, you had better tell me what happened."

I felt what little blood I had left in my face drain. I told her the basics. "He's dead, and I'm left with child. We were married, so this makes me a widowed single mother. I don't even have his body, and there is no way that I can tell my child that their father was a hero. Braydon was no hero, just as I am no heroine. I will raise it, and that is why I needed a safe house, not for me, but for my child."

I looked down at my hands, thoroughly ashamed of myself. I felt a careful hand on my shoulder.

"Anastasia. Casca. You are an absolute idiot for getting yourself pregnant, but I am overjoyed that I will be able to hold a child and call it my sister's. You are going to have to tell everyone else, because telling them is better than Stark making assumptions. You still can beat him up anytime you wish."

"I will not get thrown out?"

"If he throws you out, he has me to deal with."

"That is my girl, Natalia-sorry, Nova." I smiled a kissed her cheek and rose from the table, my blood still rushing in my ears as I walked back to the room that Nova showed me as mine. It was quiet. I laid back on the bed, disrupting the sheets as I pulled off my shoes and let my hair down, braiding the damp strands and laying between the sheets, calming my mind and placing a hand around my stomach. It was a habit ever since I found out about my pregnancy, to protect what was mine. My other hand went under the pillow, and found nothing to grip on, since I usually fell asleep with a gun beneath my head. I did not find guns as useful as my knives, but they were more useful when the mind was still in a sleep-induced haze.

I just curled my hand into a fist and tried to fall asleep, knowing that I would not have a warm body beside me, or any pretense of safety.

Thankfully, I could blame it all on hormones. Get away with it as well. I laid in the bed, until deciding to change into workout clothes, a thin t-shirt and shorts.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, Mrs. Kirdan?"

"Is there a gym in Tony Stark's fun house?"

"Yes, down the hall, third door from your location on the right."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

"Also, I would prefer to be called Ms. Romanova or Anastasia."

"Your preference has been noted, Mrs. Kirdan."

I rolled my eyes. Just what I needed, a robot who knew what sass was. Exactly my luck.

I walked to the gym, tennis shoes hanging my their laces in my hands and my socks already sliding on the floor, getting no traction whatsoever.

The large room was dark, I searched for a light switch just as the entire room was bathed in light. I muttered my thanks to JARVIS before tying my shoes on and putting my headphones in, stretching as the music blasted in my ears. I fell into a routine, one that I had known since I was a child, going through the motions, throwing all that I felt into the movements until there was nothing else but muscle and sinew pulling and pushing, rippling beneath my skin, becoming all that I was. I was not a girl who was pregnant with no place to go. Nor was I a cold-blooded killer, who cut out the eyes of her victims. I was only the beat of drums and the movement of chords. I was the music, I was fluid, with no true beginning nor ending.

I registered when the Captain entered the room, but he was no threat to me, as he took the punching bag beside me, which was obviously weighted. I was using his first choice, I supposed, by the way he glanced at me. I brushed him off, but moved from the bag, allowing him the bag as I moved to the track, beginning at a slow jog, and gradually speeding up, seeing how many flips and twists I could throw in before I scraped my knees and elbows. My count reached 26 before someone tripped me.

Nova smirked before running off, weaving through the gym. Her path was too easy to track. I tackled her and pinned her by the wrists until she rapped her knuckles on the floor three times. She conceded quietly, sending me death glares. I shrugged.

"Never mess with a woman in my condition, Nova."

She rolled her eyes and ignored my offered hand, standing up on her own and saying. "Clean up, SHEILD wants to see you today. You also have a doctor's appointment, if you try to avoid that, we will have some issues to talk about." Natalia sauntered off, hips swinging, and I could not help but tilt my head and watch her. It was almost a reflex. She had a really nice-looking backside.

I shook my head and followed, going to the "my" room and taking a shower. I checked my reflection and quickly applied cosmetics, scowling slightly and somehow getting into my clothes, although my stomach tried to rebel against me. It finally did, I was walking to the elevator, when I felt bile rise up in my throat. I dropped what I was holding and sprinted into the nearest room, kneeling before the toilet. I silently thanked my earlier decision to pull my hair back. I finished and flushed the toilet, and saw Clint Barton standing in the doorway, Nova behind him, scowling at me. I cleaned my mouth out and reapplied my make-up.

"I am sorry you had to see that." I said before turning and leaving, gathering myself as I walked, forcing my back straighter. I checked the time. JARVIS, the odd disembodied voice, told me that my meeting with Director Fury was not until this afternoon. I walked to the kitchen on the floor, the one I seemed to share with Nova and Clint Barton. It was huge. I smiled and pulled off my jacket, and began to raid the cabinets.

I might not have like Tony Stark that much, but he knew how to stock a kitchen. I pulled out ingredients for an old recipe that I would always cook for Braydon, almost on instinct. He always begged me to make it. I walked to my room, grabbed my apron and journal (it was home to all the recipes I had harvested) and put on the worn fabric covering. I could make it in time for something or the other. I did not know a thing about Russian cuisine. I never really cared for it. I always found the American southern "comfort food" interesting, although the white haired women, Paula Deen, scared me just a bit. I flipped through the journal, then landed on the recipe, double-checking out of habit before scrubbing my hands clean. I pulled two stones from my apron pocket and held down the pages of my journal, feeling comfort in the familiar actions. I began making the food, the portions for all the people in the tower that I knew of, so the entirety of the Avengers, and then some, since some would obviously eat more than others. I felt the familiar slight burn in my arms as I kneaded bread, the muscles were not used as constantly in the fighting that I did.

The smell of food attracted Nova and Clint Barton, Nova blinked at me, and I shrugged before returning to work, dirty dishes piling up in the sink. I continued my work, reusing what I could and throwing into the extras bowl to mix up into a casserole what I couldn't use. Braydon would always watch me. He always tried to take something from the bowls. I began to wash dishes, stopping when timers competed for my attention. The counters were filled with all sorts of food, and somehow, it had drawn the inhabitants of the next few floors. I gave them all pointed glances.

"If you want any of this food, you are going to have to wash your hands," I tilted my head slightly as I counted the number of people in the room, "and faces." I added, turning as I heard grumbling, and waved my free hand at them, gesturing for them to get a move on. I set the nearby table, and as the men and women walked back in, I held out a bowl, which I had labeled "Electronic Devices" Nova's face remained passive as she dropped her phone into the bowl, Tony Stark scowled at me and unloaded his pockets. His girlfriend/fiancé, Pepper Potts did not seem entirely content with the idea either, but everyone complied, emptying their pockets. I placed my own phone in the bowl and placed said bowl on top of the cabinets, standing on top of the counter to reach it. The table had filled up, and everyone was reaching for food. I stood with a fist on my hip and cleared my throat.

"Are you Americans savage enough to not say grace? Captain Rogers, if you could," The man nodded and bowed his head. I took the empty seat at the head of the table and followed suit, muttering a short Russian blessing once the Captain had said his own. I gestured for them to eat, and they did so. With a great amount of gusto. This Thor character nearly smashed a glass on the ground. I had to give him the "death glare of doom" (Braydon had named it) and he refrained from doing so. I thanked him. If I were to live in a house with these people to full term, I may have some practice mothering them before I even birth my child.

I went back to my food, picking at it and eating it alternately, and looking up every so often to find a pair of eyes on me. I ignored them and once I finished, began to clear off plates and refilling glasses, performing the role of a hostess. Even though this house was not mine. Not like the one Braydon and I shared. I shoved the memory violently from the forefront of my mind and began to clean the table, as they all moved away from it, most seeing that my mood had visibly darkened. Just then, I had no patience for any sort of stupidity. I raked a hand through my hair as I put away the leftovers and simply zoned out as I was taken to a SHEILD field office.

I sat in a rather comfortable chair, staring at Director Fury as he was staring at me. I admit, the one-eyed stare was slightly startling, but I gouge gouged out eyes for a living, so the lack of an eye was not truly a concern of mine. I raised my eyebrows at him, about to speak, but he beat me to the punch.

"Well, as lovely as this staring contest is, I want you to tell me about Braydon Alexei Kirdan."

"What do you want to know?"

"Who did he work for?"

"Not the same people. The man he killed in the hotel was not on any of the lists I was given. Braydon was a hit man, much like me, paid to kill. He was good, and his mistake was to become affiliated with me."

"How was that a mistake?"

"We are here to talk about my husband, not myself. Braydon was a hired killer, but always worked for the same organization. We never talked business."

"Where did you keep your wedding rings?"

"Around our necks, if we kept them on our hands, it could pose a potential problem, as most of our job entails seduction."

"Do you know how he died?"

"No. He never came back. We usually do not call each other while on assignment but we always leave a message somehow to let each other know that we will be returning late or where to meet once we return. He did not leave a note, and he did not come back for two weeks. I looked for him for one more. Then I came here. If Braydon was dead, they were coming for me. If he was dead, they would have found the ring. His organization would ask around, and that would not take long at all. Basically, I was screwed. And hormonal." I smiled at him sweetly, before letting it dissolve quickly, making the overall look of innocence turn deadly.

"So, basically, you don't know if he's dead or not."

"Do you?"

"Yes, actually. He's not dead. He's one of our agents."