Authors note: Hey guys!

Thank you for the reviews and favorites! I'm so excited that people are reading my work!

Some people have commented that she's like Black Widow. While I do adore Natasha Romanoff, I had and still have no intention of using her as a basis of my character. She deserves better than being copied by my inadequate imagination. But thank you to all who kindly complemented my character with the comparison.

I do not own Black Widow nor any other part of the Marvel universe. Nor do I receive any compensation for this story. If I did I wouldn't be trying to pay off student loans.

Don't forget to review at the end of the chapter!

Hugs and kisses!

Storybooksage

•

•

•

Her head fuzzed and her vision unfocused like a cheap camera. She had a vague feeling of her leg throbbing and something wound tight around it. She forced her eyes open and looked through the wobbly fog at the bulky bump under the blanket that was her leg.

She fumbled with the light material before throwing it to the foot of the hospital bed. She reached forward and gingerly touched the tightly wound wraps on her thigh. They had blotches of red where her blood had begun soaking through. She blinked several times in an attempt to clear her head and glanced again at her leg but the bandage was still there.

At the end of her bed was a medical chart. Ignoring the pain she twisted her body so she could snatch it off the table before flopping back against the pillow. Above her head the heart monitor's beeping sped up for a second before resuming it's steady metronoming. She opened the chart and stared down the report, commanding it to change it's mind. Right femur shattered, several muscles torn, and ligaments and tendons snapped. A surgery had reattached the muscles and sinew back together but the bone would need to be iced until the swelling went down and then her leg would be casted.

"Oh that's just perfect." She halfheartedly threw the clip hoard at the wall. It missed by several feet.

Of course no one was there to witness her frustration so she took the opportunity to survey the room. She was definitely at one of the facilities. One of the windows showed the New York skyline as if she were looking north but what should have been the south facing window showed the skyline from an angle facing east. Screens. She was underground somewhere. Her room was sterile but not bland; the medical equipment was tucked away in cupboards, scenic pictures hung on the wall, a soft rug was spread on the floor, and a vase of exotic flowers adorned a table next to her elbow.

A note peaked out from between a tiger lily and a yellow orchid. She drew it away from the sweet smelling petals and unsealed the envelope. "Hey Elda, I'm sorry that you got shot. I know you'll be back kicking in the heads of child traffickers soon. But in the mean time please relax and don't cause too much trouble for the Director. Once again I'm sorry, sincerely, Your Favorite Supervisor." She smiled at the note and sealed it back in the envelope just as the door pushed open.

"Agent Wentworth, how are you feeling?" The tall man at the door looked down at her, his dark brown eye always seemed to bore into her thoughts. Most people looked away at his scrutiny but she forced herself to return his look, avoiding the eye patch. "You gave us quite a shock, injuring yourself like that. We didn't know you were foolish enough to get shot. It's almost like you did it on purpose. But I think it was negligence. You insist on making stupid decisions in the field and running on emotion instead of strategy." She kept her mouth shut knowing it was the better option at the moment. "It's going to take you a while to physically recover. I've had you temporarily reassigned."

"Sir, you can't take me out of the field. I'm the best at what I do." So much for silence is golden. "No one else will put as much dedication and hard work into this as I do." Her voice teetered dangerously between conniving and whining. "Who is replacing me?"

"Agent Smith."

"What?!" Elda shrieked, "The driver? He's an idiot and he doesn't have to motivation to do whatever it takes."

"He follows orders and communicates with the team." Fury raised his eyebrows in a challenge.

Her eyes narrowed at her boss "I do follow orders. I thought we were going in to a holding house and only a madam was there. I was given bad information." This had happened to her before. "Maybe you should have a conversation with your analyst put him on leave."

"Wentworth..." His voice warned her to shut up.

"Don't." She rose her hand to silence him. She had learned long ago that if she took charge of a situation she almost always got her way. "I refuse to be taken off duty. I can't work behind a desk all day I need action." The wine was gone replaced by a controlled fierceness that would cower any normal man.

Unfortunately Director Fury was far from normal. "You don't have a choice. You can take the new assignment or you can be found wandering around Canada with no memory and a bus ticket to Malibu."

"The program will continue if I accept the assignment?" She still spoke through clenched teeth but her voice was a bit calmer and her shoulders relaxed.

"It will continue as long as it has funding." Fury knew that the funding would never run out even if the economy crashed.

He reached into his brief case and handed her a tablet. He sat in the chair next to the bed and watched as she turned the tablet on and read over the confidential documents. As she read through the files her body language changed from confrontational to interested. She raised an eyebrow at the picture. "I heard rumors that you found him up north." She turned a virtual page, "I also know that he's irreplaceable to us. But what am I supposed to do?"

The Director took the tablet and placed it next to the other secrets, "As I'm sure you know, he has a bit of catching up to do." He stood back up, "I need you to help integrate him."

Her lip would have curled had she not been so shocked, "You want me to baby sit some glorified lab rat with a pretty face?" Her voice remained calm but indignation brewed under the surface barely recognizable except for the way she gripped the blanket. "How am i even supposed to help him? I can't even teach people who are middle aged how to use a microwave. How am i supposed to teach father time to be useful to us other than as a prototype?"

With out saying anything he balanced the brief case on the bed next to her uninjured leg. Then he was gone and Elda was left alone with the assignment she didn't want.

She opened the brief case and pulled out the manila envelope that had her fake identifications inside. She dumped them in her lap and smiled at her fake ID, twenty-one, they had made her two years younger.

The address underneath her birthday caught her eye, 'Thirty-eight sixty-five Baltic Rd, Apartment 12." She scrambled for the tablet and flipped through several screens till she found it. 'Thirty-eight sixty-five Baltic Rd, Apartment 12.'

A string of curse words escaped her lips. Not only were they living in the same building but from the looks of it they were supposed to share an apartment.

No way in hell was she moving in with Captain America.

•

•

•

Author's Note:

Oooo it looks like our heroine isn't happy about being Captain Cuteness' roomie. Personally I wouldn't be complaining if i were given that assignment. But alas I was not bestowed that great honor.

Please let me know what you guys think so far! I love a good critique.