June 2001

In-Flight, to Lyon, France

That first mission together as a trio went so smoothly, it soon became common for the three of them to be sent out together. There was a level of trust between them, though it was still working on growing with Natasha-both her to them and them to her. But there was enough there that they were able to work a whole lot more smoothly than some of their other teams out there. Add in that the team was made up of two spies who had been trained essentially since birth and one of the best snipers SHIELD had and they were quite a group to send out together.

At the moment they were heading out to a job in Lyon, France. Some place that Spencer actually hadn't been to before. It was just the three of them in the jet, which they were taking to a secure location in Paris. From there, they'd drive over to Lyon. Or, at least, Natasha and Spencer would. Clint would get his own transportation out there. He was their backup this time. For the first time, it was Spencer and Natasha who were going to take the bulk of the mission, working together on it. There would be on Clint right there in the middle of them. Spencer had been through enough tests to recognize when she was in one. SHIELD was testing to see how well they could work together without having Clint right there with them. How well were two who liked to be in control, who had spent much of their lives alone, going to be able to work together?

Spencer wasn't sure how it was going to go. But she had hopes.

Natasha was their pilot, with Clint lounging in the co-pilot's seat doing pretty much nothing. Spencer was in the seat behind Natasha, which left her open to conversation with Clint. He kept himself turned towards her and had been bugging her almost nonstop since they'd gotten up in the air. Of course. It was all familiar babble, too. Even if she hadn't heard it for a while.

Usually, Clint quizzed Spencer on what facts she knew about the area they were going to. It wasn't something he'd done in front of Natasha yet, mostly likely because he knew just how self-conscious Spencer could get about spouting facts. Most of Spencer's life had been spent being told to learn things but to keep them to herself unless asked.

Clint wasn't like that. He never cared if they watched Jeopardy and Spencer gave all the answers, plus extra information. He didn't care if they started talking about something and Spencer could list of countless obscure facts about it. And, as he was proving now, he didn't care if Spencer gave him every single boring fact about the place they were traveling to. He'd apparently decided that Natasha and Spencer weren't going to care as well, seeing as how he wasn't holding back like he had the last few times and was asking whatever questions popped into that ridiculous head of his.

"So, this place we're going, Lyon, it's not that far away from Paris, right?" Clint started out asking. It was a fairly basic question. At Spencer's low murmur of affirmation, Clint had asked his next question. One of his oddly favorite ones. "How far away is it?" For some reason he liked to ask Spencer about distances. The weirdo.

After a look at Natasha, who she could see only a bit of thanks to their seating, Spencer decided that she might as well answer. Clint wasn't exactly known for just letting something go once he asked. "About four hundred and seventy kilometers."

"You ever been before?"

That was another common question. They liked to compare where they'd been sometimes. Or how much they really remembered of the places they'd been to. Spencer settled back in her seat and shook her head. "No. I've been to Paris, but not Lyon."

Clint shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah, me neither. Should be fun. They got anything good to check out while we're there?"

Telling him they were there on a job, and therefore weren't going to be sightseeing, was pointless. Spencer heard Natasha doing just that and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. She didn't comment on it, though. If Natasha hadn't learned by now, she'd learn soon enough that Clint always found time to check out something he wanted to see. Instead of focusing on that, Spencer simply cut off Clint's reply by answering his question. "You'd probably like Les Halles de Lyon Paul Bocuse. It has more than fifty different shops and restaurants that offer regional products." She knew he loved to try new food when they went different places. Not that he could cook it - he was a bit of a disaster in the kitchen. "La Croix-Rousse would probably be somewhere you'd like as well."

"La Croix-Rousse?" Clint repeated, his accent passable enough that Spencer didn't have to wince.

"Yeah." She shifted in her seat, turning to face him, and didn't even really pay attention as her hands lifted to join in what she was saying. She usually gestured while she spoke, at least when she was really passionate about something, but ever since she'd found out that she spoke too fast sometimes while excited, making it hard for Clint to be able to catch everything even with his hearing aids in, Spencer had simply taken to turning those expansive gestures into different ones-sign language. It satisfied her need to move her hands and made sure he wouldn't miss what she was saying, so long as he was looking at her. She barely even noticed she did it anymore. "La Croix-Rousse is a hill in the city of Lyon, as well as the name of a neighborhood located on that hill. It's divided into les pentes and le plateau. The name La Croix-Rousse means the red cross, and it comes from a reddish brown stone cross erected there back in the 16th century. It was an important center of weaving in the early 19th century. The neighborhood sports something unique, known as traboules, which are covered passageways that function as public hallways through the quarters of private houses. These alleyways were once used by silk workers to transport their fabrics. But the way it's all built makes for some unique and interesting rooftops. I think, with your love of parkour, you'd have plenty of fun running through there."

The flood of information had Natasha giving off a sort of stunned air that Spencer was, really, far too used to when she was stupid enough to let people see this side of her.

Clint just grinned. "Awesome. I can't wait." Then his grin shifted into something more amused, and Spencer knew the next question. It was another common one. "All right then. Tell me something weird. Something random."

Rolling her eyes, Spencer said, "Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi, who created the Statue of Liberty, also designed the Fontaine Bartholdi, which can be found in Lyon's Place des Terreaux."

Before Clint could reply to that, a small wave of amusement built around Natasha and she called out "If you two are done, maybe we can discuss the actual mission? I'd like to make sure we have everything in order before we land."

"Tash! I'm hurt that you'd think I'm anything but prepared." Clint said, sounding anything but hurt.

The more time that Spencer spent with them, and the more she let herself get comfortable around Natasha, the more she got to see just how well the two fit together as friends. They liked to bicker in a way that sort of frightened most people. Clint was his usual sassy, amused, smart-ass self, and Natasha had a sense of humor as dry as the desert as well as a lethal glare that could shut up pretty much everyone. Even Clint, sometimes, and that was an amazing feat. She was giving him one of those looks now, but it was having no effect. Clint just grinned even more and slumped down lower in his seat.

For her part, Spencer could respect Natasha's need to double and triple check things. There were still times that Spencer was like that. It came from years and years of working alone. Suddenly working with other people, even if you were beginning to trust those people, didn't immediately break old habits. Because of that, Spencer had no problems going over things once more. "It's a retrieval mission." Spencer said, shifting in her seat to better be able to watch out the window as she repeated the words she'd already gone over plenty of times, both out loud and in her mind. "We're going after an 0-2-1," which meant a potentially lethal item of unknown origins, possibly biological in nature, "believed to be in the possession of a group referred to as 'the Coming'."

"Do you even know how many jokes I'm restraining right now?" Clint interjected.

Both women ignored him. "Currently SHIELD believes the samples are being held by a Dr. Eduard Totes, who is staying at the Hotel Carlton Lyon - MGallery." Spencer said, continuing with her recitation. "He's currently on his third trip in the past six months to the area. Intel suggests he's working with someone at the local hospital, most likely to either help make or distribute whatever their product is. Our job is to find a way to him and secure his samples, as well as any information he might have with him that might tell us what this is, how it was made, and who might've already been subjected to it." There were more orders than that, orders that were for Spencer alone. Jason had given them to her, and Phil had made sure she knew what they were. Spencer was to also try and extract any information she could from Dr. Totes, by any means necessary, and then she was to make sure he never made it back home to tell his group anything. She was also authorized to clean up, as necessary.

"How much information do they really think he's going to be bringing with him?" Clint asked, his tone mocking but his question serious. "I mean, we've chased down a few things from this group-they're not idiots. Well, not more so than any other group like this out there. They don't just travel around with major secrets in their briefcase."

"The information we'll gather won't come from a briefcase." Natasha told him.

In those words, Spencer heard so much more. She caught the other woman's tone, pairing it with the emotions she felt and the barely-there hints in her body language, and she knew how Natasha was taking their orders-the same way Spencer had originally taken them, before she'd gotten her extra orders. Seduction was a common tactic out in the field. There was many a target that would tell you all you wanted to know once their pants came off.

It looked like Clint understood that as well. His expression tightened a little, though he hid it well. His emotions gave him away, though. Spencer felt the fierce wave of protectiveness wash over him and she closed her eyes, let it fill her. It felt so amazing to have that kind of emotion directed towards her, even the slightest bit. No one, not even her mother, had ever felt that protective of her. Diana Reid, bless her heart, had just been too ill. She cared for Spencer. That was never in any doubt. But her illness and Spencer's ability to lie made sure she never knew how bad things were, which meant she never had the need to get that protective of her child.

They all knew that there was a chance their cover story would work, but they also knew that there was a chance that either woman would have to employ tactics that Spencer knew Clint didn't really approve of.

"Natasha," Clint's voice was a bit lower, carrying a layer of warning to it that Natasha responded to immediately with a low, "I know."

The two shared a look that spoke more than a thousand words .Spencer squashed down the jealousy she'd mostly managed to get rid of. She tilted her head instead and watched them as they carried on a conversation that consisted of facial expressions and, eventually, a little huff of laughter.

When Clint turned to look at her again, there was a light of worry in his eyes and a smile on his lips. He arched one eyebrow at whatever he saw on her face. "What's that look for?"

Spencer answered him before she could think better of her words. "Is this what a child feels like on a road trip with their parents?"

She almost regretted the question. Being around Clint was bad for her in some ways-it'd been a long time since she'd been stupid enough to just blurt out the thoughts in her head without carefully thinking through how those words might be received. Only, instead of getting offended, Clint dissolved into laughter and even Natasha made a choked sound that could've been laughter. The feel of their amusement was wonderful and warm against Spencer's skin. She smiled a little to herself, holding that warmth to her, cherishing it for the gift that it was.

It wasn't but a half an hour later that they had finally landed in Paris. They were at a secure SHIELD safe house where no one would find the jet they'd parked in what appeared to be an abandoned building. Two vehicles were waiting for them. A car for Spencer and Natasha, and a motorcycle for Clint. From this point out they'd be going out under their covers. Clint would sort of disappear, falling back to provide backup for them, keeping out of sight until they needed him and yet never letting them out of his sight. Natasha and Spencer would go on, playing their roles here, roles which they'd cement a little on the drive over. The drive to Lyon would take about four and a half to five hours.

Spencer was putting her bag into the trunk of the car when Clint finally made his way over from the bike. He watched as Spencer shut the trunk, Natasha's bag already inside, and then he looked up at the two of them. "You guys have everything?"

The look Natasha gave him said clearly how stupid a question she found that question. "We'll contact you by the end of the day." She said instead.

"You'd better." He moved up towards the car and leaned back against the side of the trunk, putting him close to Spencer. The little twists of his emotions were ones that Spencer was starting to get familiar with from him. They usually came out when she went on a mission on her own, or when they had to separate on a mission. Worry, protectiveness, affection. She drew them in now and stored them up inside. It got better when Clint reached out and curved his hand over the back of her neck, the skin to skin contact increasing what she could feel from him. He used that hold to tug her in towards him. "You be good and don't give Natasha too much trouble, you hear?"

She leaned against his side and tilted her head to look up and give him her driest look. "You do realize I'm not actually a child, don't you?"

His grin grew wide. The hand on her neck gave a squeeze and his other hand came up, his index finger bopping the tip of her nose. "Be a dear and listen to Mommy now, sweetheart." He teased.

Spencer scowled at him. The asshole. "Yes, Dad." She drawled out as mockingly as she possibly could. Only, the instant the word came out of her mouth, she was grimacing. The word 'Dad' held a certain image to her and it was one that Clint very definitely did not fit. "No, no, I can't even joke like that. You don't look like a 'dad'."

"He's far too childish for that." Natasha interjected. She was smirking, though. As close to a grin as she ever got. "What about Otec?"

"Ha ha, guys." Clint said, even as Spencer shook her head. She leaned into him enough that his hand slid off her neck, arm draped casually around her shoulders. The touch was wonderful. Calm and comfortable in a way that no one else in her life had ever felt while holding her. She melted down a little into that touch until she could tip her head and rest it on his shoulder. "No, not Otec." That didn't fit either.

Natasha seemed to be getting into their game here. She had her hands on her hips and looked Clint over as if actually trying to assess this. "Папа?"

"No." That one didn't fit either.

She turned her head enough to look up at Clint, who was mock glaring at them. "How did I move from big brother to father?" He asked them both. "I'm not that old, thank you very much. I think I'm feeling a bit insulted here."

That had her quickly checking his emotions. She only relaxed again when she could feel that he was joking. He wasn't insulted. If anything, he was amused and just a bit… something else. Something Spencer wasn't sure she had a word for.

She was drawn back out of her thoughts when Natasha asked "Isa?"

That name had Spencer pausing for a second. Then she shook her head. "Mm mm. What about… Baba?" She paused after saying it and shook her head again. "No. Not that either."

"Babbo?" Natasha asked.

That was worse. Spencer tilted her head and looked Clint over again, trying to think of the one word to fit here. When her brain landed on it, she lit up a little, not quite able to help herself. "Abbu." It sounded…personal. Private. Something that no one else but them would really understand. The word was Urdu, something that there weren't an abundance of people who spoke it, even at SHIELD.

They had it this time. The two women smiled at one another, a light twitch of the lips that wouldn't have been recognized as the grin it was by anyone except the man standing with them. Natasha gave a small nod to show her agreement and Spencer's lips twitched with the urge to smile bigger.

Even as Natasha smiled, her expression pleased, Clint was mock scowling. "You two think you're so damn hilarious. I'm no one's father."

Spencer chuckled and reached up, patting a hand over his heart. "Just keep telling yourself that."

"How did I graduate from big brother to father here? I feel like I should've been consulted on something like this."

Shrugging her shoulder, Spencer dropped her head back down, letting it rest against Clint's shoulder once more. She closed her eyes, drawing in the warmth of him, and she answered him with the bluntness that very few people liked. "You worry for me, make sure I'm taken care of, make sure that I eat and sleep at appropriate times, and you also apparently threaten people that you feel have hurt me. You also seem to care about me, though you really shouldn't, and you do so when many others wouldn't anymore. Isn't that what Dad's do?" Not that she was really sure. The only examples she had weren't exactly the best.

Quiet fell around Spencer. She didn't think about it at first, not until the protectiveness Clint was giving off spiked a little higher than normal. Before she could say anything or even start to open her eyes to look around, Clint was tugging her in closer and pressing a kiss to her head.

It was Natasha who broke the moment and kept it from potentially becoming painfully awkward. "All right." She said, voice back to business once more. Though there was a hint of mischievousness as she said "We should head out if we want to get to Lyon before it's too late. Spencer. Say goodbye to your Abbu."

Spencer smiled and opened her eyes, enjoying it as she felt Clint's humor grow. The man had a hint of a laugh in his voice as he said "I'm not getting rid of this, am I?"

Natasha smirked up at him. "Absolutely not."

The arm around Spencer shifted with his shrug. "Eh. I guess it could be worse." Lifting that hand, he ruffled Spencer's hair before letting her go. "At least if I'm gonna be a dad, it's for one hell of a kid." When he drew that hand back, he used it to point at her. "But I hope you realize, this means I expect lavish gifts every father's day. Cards, chocolate, pizza, a fresh cup of coffee when I first wake up—the works!"

"Who includes pizza in their demands for gifts?" Natasha asked.

The way Clint looked at her was like she was stupid. Like he couldn't believe she'd even asked him that. "Everyone."

The smile on Spencer's face stuck around even after they were miles away.

It didn't take her and Natasha long to figure out some of the details to their story. When they'd been getting ready to leave, Phil had asked them a few questions, trying to make sure they'd have a cover in place when they arrived. He'd pulled out the pertinent information, the things he had to know to get them ready, and left the rest up to them.

The story they were going under was of two friends, best friends, who were coming to Lyon on the rumor. A rumor that SHIELD had heard before-one that whispered that good medical help could be found there. Help for people no one else seemed to want to help. Spencer, undercover as Erin, was going to play the sick person looking for help. Natasha, playing as Nadine, was going to be the older friend, the one who was bringing her out here in the hopes of finding something, anything, which might make her better.

That story allowed for them to be at the hospital, to maybe even encounter Dr. Totes in a medical setting instead of just trying to casually bump into him at the hotel, and it gave them the opportunity to talk to him in a conversation where he might actually be the one to bring up what they needed.

The downside to that, for Spencer, was what would have to happen while she was in the hospital. Before they'd left, Phil had handed a small case to Natasha with three different vials inside. "This vial here," He said, laying a finger on the first one. "Will work to suppress any healing factor that you have, Erinyes. I know yours is strong, so we recommend double the dose if necessary."

"You have a serum that suppresses healing factors." Spencer's voice had been flat, void of any infliction. She'd encountered a serum like that before; the fact that SHIELD had it and was willing to use it wasn't a good sign.

The way Phil had looked at her suggested he knew how she felt. "Only for three hours, no more than that. After that, a level 5 healing factor like yours will start to wash it out of your system. That process takes fifteen minutes."

That was better than the one the Facility had. Theirs had worked, at most, for two hours before she had to get another dose.

"This vial here," HIs finger went to the middle on this time, moving on as if what he'd just said was no big deal at all, "is the antidote for the last one. It'll start to remove it within five minutes and have your healing back in no more than fifteen."

"And the last?" Natasha had asked.

"The last one carries a disease that we believe make you a prime candidate for Dr. Totes' assistance. It is incurable, and no one's going to be able to slap a label on it. It's something… created. You're to use it before going to the hospital each time, and potentially at other times that we'll leave to your discretion. Any tests run while this is in your system will show one very ill individual, and will back up your story. When the other serum runs out, your healing factor will wash this right out of your body, returning you to good health. So if you're going to be in company or at the hospital for more than two and a half hours, to be safe, you'll need to have these with you to give a second dose of each." He'd looked at Spencer then, a flash of sympathy on his face. "We've tested this many times. It won't be fun. Think of AIDS, cancer, at their very worst. You'll be exhausted, aching, and nauseous. Your muscles will be sore to the point that you may need assistance to walk. With your healing factor, I can't imagine you've ever been sick, but if you had I'd say this will be worse than any disease you've ever encountered."

None of that sounded like any fun. However, it sounded like a rather solid plan. Being sick and in pain wasn't going to be hard for Spencer. She could handle that. What was going to be difficult to her was trusting that she wasn't being lied to and the serum suppressing her healing factor would wear off, or the antidote to it would work, and trusting that Natasha was going to have her back while she was out of commission. It sounded like she wasn't going to be in any condition to fight while under the effects of this.

It helped, knowing that Clint would be nearby at all times, watching over them, ready to back them up or get them out at a moment's notice.

That part of the plan was all laid out for them and they were as prepared as they were going to be. What they had to figure out in the car ride there were the smaller things. How long they'd been friends, how much of this 'Nadine' had been there for. Their likes, dislikes, accents, stories about their friendship, background for the two of them. Not just big things, either, but little things. Things that people would see and would subconsciously have them believing the two had known one another for a long time. Stuff that would allude to inside jokes, to past memories. Things like, a laugh shared over orange juice because one time eight years ago they'd attempted to make their own and had somehow made the most disgusting concoction ever created, so full of pulp it was almost as thick as a milkshake.

At lot of the things that would sell their story happened in not just words but body language. So the two worked not only on the little bits of information that would help make their fake friendship seem more real, but also on relaxing themselves enough to slip into the role. That was important. They had to be able to sell their role, or Dr. Totes and whoever he was working with would never believe them enough to risk giving up anything.

It wasn't that hard for Spencer. She'd played so many roles in her life; more often than not it was hard to be just herself.

What was hard was the agreement by both of them that Spencer should really look the part when they arrived at the hotel. That meant that they were going to have to test those medicines a lot faster than Spencer had wanted to.

They pulled over a little over halfway through their drive to stop for the bathroom and to give Spencer her shots. That would give them just under two more hours in the car, plenty of time for everything to really kick in, and it would start to wear off not long after their arrival, meaning Spencer wasn't going to be out of commission too long once they got there.

Spencer sat in the front seat with the small case in her lap. She hated needles-really, truly hated them. If her body was capable of scarring she knew she'd have plenty of marks from the amount of needles that had been put into her over the years. The idea of willingly injecting herself with an unknown substance was one that made her feel sick.

She was grateful Natasha said nothing. She didn't offer Spencer useless platitudes. Didn't try and tell her that it was going to work out fine. They both knew there was a risk that it wouldn't and Natasha wasn't going to make a promise she couldn't keep. Instead, she simply sat there and lent her silent support as Spencer gathered up all her strength and courage and finally started to prepare the needles. The bottles were labeled with innocent names, things that someone who was seriously ill would carry with them to help-Phil had laid out that whole cover for them-but Spencer easily remembered which one was which. She prepared the first injection and didn't give herself time to stress over it or stop. The needle went in easily into the crook of her arm and she injected the suppression serum in with a steady, smooth move.

The speed with which that first shot was supposed to work had been something Spencer question. Phil had told them the second shot, the one to make her sick, could be delivered as quickly as a minute later. Spencer prepped the next shot, timed it, and then slid the poison into her veins.

Her hands were professional as she cleaned up and put everything away. "I'm going to sleep as much as I can until this kicks in." Spencer announced as she put the case back into the backpack and then the bag back into the backseat.

Natasha nodded, calm and collected still. "We've got everything organized as best we can. Resting now while you can would be smart."

That was all that was said on it. As Spencer curled up in her seat and felt the car start once more, she was sort of grateful that it was Natasha who was here with her and not Clint. Clint, who still had no idea about that little bag of medicines. He hadn't asked how they were going to fake an illness, at least not that Spencer knew of, and she hadn't offered it up. So unless Natasha or Phil had explained it to him without Spencer there, he probably didn't have any idea about this part of things. If he had, Spencer knew he would've been furious by it. He was so protective.

Natasha, however… she was like Spencer. She was smart, practical, and fully capable of doing whatever needed done to get the job finished. Not that Clint wasn't good at his job. He was! He was great. He just wasn't as cold as Spencer and Natasha could be. Spencer knew he would've respected Spencer's choice to do this-he was great at respecting her choices-but he would've made his displeasure known.

Well, she'd deal with the fallout of it later if she had to. For the moment she was going to do as she'd said and take advantage of the time to get some sleep. Who knew how much they were going to get once they were there.

The first thing Spencer became aware of as she woke up was an ache that seemed to have spread through her entire body and settled heavily into her joints. She was cold, too, her body shivering slightly, which only made the achiness worse. Her mouth was dry, but when she swallowed compulsively because of it she found that her throat was sore and swollen. God, now I know how people feel when they're sick. How on earth does anyone deal with this? It's miserable.

"Erin." Natasha's voice was right there beside her, low and gentle, with a worried note to it that wouldn't usually show through. The amount of emotion in there clued Spencer in just as much as the use of the name 'Erin'. They were in character right now.

Blinking open her eyes, Spencer came to the realization that they'd stopped moving. The car wasn't even on anymore and Natasha was out of the driver's seat. She'd come around the car and was at the passenger's door. It opening was probably what had woken Spencer. As her vision cleared, she could see her friend squatting down beside the open door, looking up at her with an expression that was concerned, understanding, and affectionate all at once. Spencer tried her best to smile in return. "Hey."

"We're here." Natasha explained. She reached one hand up and brushed some of Spencer's hair back from her cheek. It was getting longer, though not by much. Long enough that she could cover her breasts with it if she pulled it forward. Absently she thought to herself that she should cut it again. Then Natasha spoke again and Spencer had to make herself focus on her. "The valet is ready to take the car, hon. What do you say we get you inside, hm? You can try sleeping in an actual bed."

It made Spencer feel a bit weak to realize just how appealing a bed sounded.

She smiled, too familiar in playing a part to slip just because she felt horrible. "That'd be great."

With Natasha's help, Spencer unfolded herself and got out of the car. Every part of her screamed to stop moving and she had to actually grit her teeth a little so as not to make noise. The way she leaned on Natasha wasn't all for show. She was grateful for the arm that came around her. "You're burning up." Natasha murmured as she tugged Spencer in closer. Her movements became less faked, more real, and she started to move Spencer towards the hotel while someone followed them with their bags and another person drove off with their car. Spencer focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

They'd made the right choice, have her take this early so she'd look the part when they arrived. Anyone who looked at her wouldn't be able to deny that she was sick. Plus, it gave Spencer something to work off of in the future, a basis for comparison so she'd known just how to act when the medicine wasn't in her system.

Spencer mostly just leaned on Natasha as they got through checking in and everything like that. It wasn't until they were upstairs and in their new room-which Spencer tried her best to look over, assess the same way she always did a new space, only she mostly managed to find the bed and sprawl on it-that Spencer finally spoke again. "Well," She said, voice heavy and just a bit hoarse. "That sucked."

From her spot at the foot of the bed, Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at Spencer, her face serious. It was her 'I'm worried but I don't want to admit it' face. Spencer was starting to recognize those faces. She learned to read, and label, them a lot faster since her empathy let her feel what was really going on inside. "We shouldn't have kept you in the car for so long." She said, and, oh, she was still in her role. Right. No telling who might be nearby listening or anything like that. Never assume a place was safe until you'd made personally sure it was.

Shape up! Spencer snapped at herself. You're going to get yourself and your partner killed if you don't shape up and pay attention. She knew what could happen to someone who wasn't paying proper attention on a mission. If she'd managed to work with crashed mental walls in the past, she could work while sick.

"Better just to get it done with." Spencer let her voice shift a little into a sound suited more towards Georgia; a hint of a thicker southern drawl that she'd learned over the years seemed to pair well with her looks in a way that inspired trust in people. It made her look gentler, more delicate, less likely to cause trouble, and she had no qualms taking advantage of that. It'd be an even greater advantage than normal, too, because she was going to look pale and ill, making her seem even more delicate to people. She knew it showed now as she gave Natasha a shaky smile and told her "I slept most the trip away anyways."

Though she wasn't really trying to play Natasha of all people, she could see her friend wasn't unaffected. "You need to get more sleep now. It'll help you settle in. I'll take care of getting our stuff unpacked and all that."

'All that' meant securing their hotel room, Spencer knew. She also knew she'd walk through it later and take a look for herself. She trusted Natasha enough to look, and to watch over her some while she was sleeping, but she didn't have trust enough in anyone for her to stay in a place she hadn't checked over herself.

For now, though, she let herself scoot up the bed a little, let her aching body rest on the softness of the mattress underneath her, and drift off into a shaky sort of sleep.

By the time Spencer woke again, everything had worked its way out of her system. She knew that almost immediately. There was no lingering feeling of sickness. No aches, no nausea, no headache. Nothing. She felt like herself as she sat up in the bed and rubbed at her face. Though she was alone in the room, she could feel Natasha nearby. Bathroom, probably, if she had to guess.

Being alone gave her a moment to look around the room. It wasn't anything really fancy. There were two double beds pushed close enough together that they could treat it like one large king sized bed if they wanted to. A table and two chairs were near the foot of the bed, with a large TV hanging up on the wall. To Spencer's left were the windows. To the right was the other bed and then a small open area with a couch, followed by a small hall that led to the front door and the bathroom.

There was a lot of red around her. Red chairs. The extra blanket folded over the end of the bed was red. It was in the carpet and the accents of the room as well. Quite a bit more red than Spencer was really comfortable with, but it wasn't a problem. She'd stayed in much worse places.

She'd just completed her scan, clocking all entry and exit points and mentally mapping out what could be used as a weapon if she had to defend herself, when the bathroom door opened and Natasha came walking out. The woman looked relaxed to anyone who believed appearances. She was dressed in jeans that fit her well and a simple yet expensive looking grey silk shirt that gave her a casual air, yet also one that said she was someone used to money. That was part of their cover here. 'Nadine' was the one with money who was bankrolling this trip. 'Erin' was poor, too poor for experimental treatment, but her best friend had brought her here hoping to help her somehow.

Natasha didn't seem surprised to see Spencer awake. Nor did she hesitate to start talking. "I've secured the room. At the moment there's nothing in here for anyone to listen in on us. We'll need to check regularly, though. Once we make contact the chances of being observed are going to increase."

"Of course." Spencer agreed easily. She still planned on looking around on her own, though.

"Check in with Hawkeye is in two and a half hours. After that, we're going to order up dinner."

That made sense. People would assume someone sick like her would want to stay and rest through the night. "Do we have an appointment set up for tomorrow?"

"Nine a.m." Natasha confirmed. She came forward and folded herself easily down onto the other bed. "I thought we could spend tonight going over the last details of our story. How're you feeling?"

She was asking more than that. How are you, how do you feel, has the serum worn off, are you back to normal? Spencer nodded at her. "As good as ever." It seemed that SHIELD hadn't lied. Their serum really did wear off. To prove it to herself, and to Natasha, Spencer reached down to the knife she kept in her boot. She pulled it out and easily flipped it around to settle it into her palm. Then she lifted her other arm and made a quick cut across the flesh. Blood welled up immediately.

Spencer was surprised when Natasha tossed a towel her way. She caught it, sneaking a look at the woman only to find her face blank, though her emotions weren't. They were annoyed and worried at the same time, telling Spencer she understood what Spencer was doing but didn't like it. Oh well. A wipe of the towel cleared the blood off before it could even drip down to stain the bed. Underneath, the flowing blood was already slowing. Under their watchful gazes it slowed, stopped, and then started to heal. Not instant-she never healed instantly-but well enough that she was satisfied. It was close to slow, a second off to her usual time, but it healed and that was what was important. She nodded at it and then smiled over at Natasha. "Good as new."

"Handy." Natasha said. Her voice was dry again, a hint of her usual humor leaking through.

That made Spencer chuckle. "It can be." The towel wiped over her arm again and then she bundled it up and tossed it to the table. Soon enough she'd get up and clean it up, use the restroom, and other things. For now, she dropped herself back down against the bed and got comfortable, one arm coming up to rest behind her head. "I don't feel like moving yet. Movie?"

For a moment Natasha just stared at her. Then she shook her head, lips twitching a little like she was going to smile. "You're far too much like your Abbu."

That brought on a real, true smile from Spencer. "Thank you."

Natasha laughed lowly and reached out for the remote. "I'm not entirely sure that was a compliment, lapushka."

"I'll take it as one anyways."

Both smiling, the two women settled down to find a movie and enjoy their last bit of real relaxation for the next little while. Best to take it while they could. Come tomorrow, they dove into their covers with vigor. There'd be no time for them to just be themselves. They knew how these kinds of missions worked well enough to know that they should take this time for themselves. Spencer relaxed into the bed, wishing only that Clint could join them. That'd make this complete. Though, she was enjoying Natasha's company more than she would've a little while ago. Their little family was growing.

That didn't seem quite the bad thing it once had.