[A companion piece to Whiteout. Mantis was not idle in a sense when that plane crashed and Winter Soldier lugged her from one continent to another.]

It was like emerging from sleep, a subtle light and a clearing of senses as Preying Mantis woke.

She was in one of the seats of the plane they'd used to escape the facility and somehow that was wrong. No longer was she in the cockpit of the aircraft, but one of the seats in the back not unlike the ones that she had used as a makeshift bed.

The light was coming from outside, bouncing almost crystal clear off the snow and sending cascades of light into the window - and that too seemed wrong to her. When had they landed? Where was Soldier?

Had he left her here?

She fumbled with the restraints of the seat before she enacted a search of the plane. It was empty, the doors were jammed - possibly by snow, or impact - and she was alone.

Mantis was aware that somehow, this scenario was wrong. Something deep inside was desperate to have her attention but it frustrated her that no matter what she did, she could not find out what.

With a huff of irritation, she sank back into the chair she had found herself in and brooded on the situation. Slowly, it dawned on her that if the doors were all buckled or blocked, how had Winter Soldier escaped the confines of the plane? There were no holes ripped into the hull and - bizarrely - she felt warm, despite the freezing temperatures outside. She did not have his immunity to the cold.

'Well done, little one.'

Mantis turned to note that someone - something - else was now sat in the adjoining chair. It was a skeleton in a black robe. Skeletons, on the whole, were not frightening. Mantis understood that they were simply the inner workings of the human body. This one talked. In a rather feminine voice, despite the lack of lips, vocal muscles or indeed lungs.

'Am I dead?' She asked astutely.

The black robed figure turned to look at her fully and she grasped the impression that the skull - without skin, eyes or distinguishable facial features - seemed to be staring and smiling at her. 'Not quite.'

She stared back before saying 'That is rather vague. You are Death, correct?'

'Yes,' She - or possibly more it considered. 'I thought this seemed a good time to chat.'

'Chat?' She echoed hollowly. Why would Death want to chat? Least of all to someone - she was pretty sure, anyway - who wasn't dead?

'You're playing with forces beyond comprehension. You are a child, dearest one - a child in need of guidance.'

'I hardly think you are anyone to judge.' Mantis answered primly but the glare at the smooth, still white bone, increased.

'You have the DNA of two of the greatest assassins in the world in your veins. And a touch of me.' Death answered back.

One little red eyebrow raised. 'A touch of Death?' How dramatic.

'Yes. You remember the scientists used to joke -'

'That an assassin and a weapon always produced death.' She finished with a tone of annoyance. 'It was a rather poorly made equation based on black humour.'

'Was it?' Death wondered. 'Was it really now?'

She did not like where this conversation was headed. 'Where is Winter Soldier? Where is this plane?!'

A skull should not be able to portray disappointment so well, but it did. 'He is fine, little one. As are you.'

The sunlight was increasing - it was almost as if a spotlight had been pushed up against the rounded windows and it was blinding her but she was not going to let Death go that easily. 'I want to know what is happening! Where...this… is!'

The figure of Death finally turned fully towards her despite the light shadowing the skull from Mantis' view and said quite solemnly for a skeleton reaper 'All in your head, little one. All in your head.'

'What do you mean I have a little bit of Death in me?!' She raged. 'It's ridiculous!'

'We shall see.' Death intoned before the brightness took hold of all her senses.

Mantis woke in room that was mostly cream and lit up in shades of sunlight that filtered through the curtains in a way that screamed late afternoon - and completely forgot about her encounter with the strange skeleton in the black robe as reality flooded back and pressing questions needed to be asked.

A/N: have an indulgence of mine. An assassin and a weapon always produce death. Well, Death took an interest and now Mantis has a second mom (not that she needed the first one, really. It's Mantis.)

One of these days I'll introduce Deadpool into the mix - her reactions to him are sure to be...entertaining. We all know Deadpool is like a drunk step-dad on any given day of the week.