Natasha left Fury's office feeling ill. She had felt she'd kept it moderately together in front of him, but now she was alone in the hallway, she could feel the vomit bubbling up inside of her. That explained where Clint was alright. Right after New York he'd fallen off the grid, and she'd been unable to contact him. No-one had. In her darkest moment, she had even asked Stark if he could find him, and Stark had failed to do so. She had asked Fury before, obviously, but she had originally believed he was on a mission. Now it was 2 months. There was no-way Barton would have lied to her about his whereabouts for that long. She trusted him with her life; they didn't lie to one another more than they had to.

This though, she believed. Barton was good. Unlike her, he had no red in his ledger. Well, no more than most. She knew that you couldn't always be good and there were times when even the best of us were corrupted. For others though, they didn't easily believe that. She knew Clint. She knew he believed it wouldn't have happened to anyone else. Loki had gone for him. She could see the ways his mind would obsess over that little piece of information. Nevertheless she believed in Clint Barton. He was the best man she knew. He would come back from this.

She collected herself and pressed the button for the elevator. Never show weakness.

It was not that feeling sad was a weakness, Natasha knew this. But to others it was. And she would not show it. She would wear her mask like she always did.

When she arrived on Floor 9, the mask was well in place.

"Agent Romanoff,"

As she got off the elevator she was greeted by the worst. Victor was not an agent, he was a stylist. He prepared agents for undercover work, using science and style. He was painful to hold a two minute conversation with, any longer she would be having a breakdown too. Natasha silently cursed Loki again. Now he had brought her into public light, disguises were to be common. Which meant she would have to see Victor more often. As if destroying New York wasn't enough.

"Good we finally get to get rid of the nasty red hair! So tacky dear, so tacky,"

"As soon as I get back from my mission, I want it back,"

"Tasha, love, you are not in a pop punk band,"

"That means nothing to me,"

"Sit. By the time I'm done with you, you will be completely unrecognisable,"

Natasha sighed to herself, but she sat. The things she did for her job. She lay back in the chair. Maybe, if she tried hard she would be able to tune Victor out. Sure, he was good at what he did, but there was no need for that level of patronising, fakeness. Victor pretended to be friendly. Natasha always saw through that. Natasha knew exactly who her friends were and Victor was not one of them. The way she saw it, she had precisely 4 friends. Sure she had other, lesser friends. But she had 4 whom she could trust completely. Hill was one. Barton was another. And she wouldn't lose him. Not for anything. Friends like that didn't come round that often from what her life experience had taught her.

"Darling, these split ends are atrocious,"

"Guess you don't get much time to care when you're saving the world,"

She could feel Victor staring down at her, but she didn't much care. Her hair was the least of her troubles. She had been eyeing up the Rome case for months. Post New-York, everything had become a little fishy. The Hulk had disappeared for years and now the public had seen him, the bad guys would always want one. They knew what he was capable of now. And Bruce's condition was a product of gamma radiation. Who knew what else could be created with the right types of radiation and chemicals?

There had always been a few Hydra rogue agents. Hydra didn't have anything, not anymore but the ideology behind it meant there would always be a few wild nut jobs. Word on the street was, they were operating in an underground facility in Rome. Trying to create serum, like the one injected in to Steve or Red Skull, or trying to create a mutation like the Hulk. She wasn't sure of the specifics. But what was very clear, they were trying to create something more powerful than humans. It seemed this particular subset of Hydra had become disgusted by humanity. They wanted to be better. Stronger. Different. She didn't understand this. A small part of her, no matter how often she felt disgusted by humanity, would always be in awe of it. It was humans who had created the serum which made Steve as strong and quick as he was. It was a human who had made Iron Man, as loathe as she was to admit it, Tony was a genius. And her, Clint, Fury, Coulson, Hill, were all fully human and they and the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D had saved the world. Humanity was not always bad.

"We're going blonde-"

"Absolutely not."

"Who's the stylist?"

"I don't want to look like a Barbie doll. I'm in Rome. I need to blend in. Dark hair,"

"Dark hair, with your face? I don't think so, sweetheart,"

"Do it,"

"Fine. We're going to put an eye modifier into your retina. The eyes being the most distinguishable feature will ensure you are protected,"

One of Victor's assistants stood over her face. She had some dollar perfume on which made Natasha feel like throwing up again. But she remained calm and the girl slipped a shimmering piece of micro technology over her eyes. When the girl was done, she held up a small mirror. Wow. Her once large eyes were gone. She now had two small green eyes. It was weird. It was her face, but not her face. Sure, her cheeks were still as they were and her mouth and nose, but it wasn't her. She watched as Victor took a larger piece of the thin see-through tech stuff (science wasn't her forte, she might as well as referred to it as magic plastic for all she knew about it) over her hair. It instantly transformed her hair. Her short red curls were gone, and in their place, was dark straight hair, the like of which she had never seen on her head before. It was so strange. Sure, she'd had it done before, but she never quite got used to it.

"Am I a genius, or I am a genius?" Victor beamed, "It will last you a month. Go. I have Hill in the chair next, you are to take pictures for your new id cards, put on the ensemble wardrobe has picked out for you, and then go to Fury for your new identity case file,"

"Do I have to go right now?"

"Because we have such dazzling conversation? Yes. You must be with Fury at 12 precisely,"

She quickly ran through the timings in her head. If she breezed through wardrobe and pictures without a hitch she would have time to write Hawkeye's letter. She had to have time. She would not leave the country without writing to him. She got up out of the chair and headed to pictures. The picture staff could usually be counted on to be efficient.

"Agent Romanoff?" A girl, whose name Natasha did not know greeted her. "We haven't got all day. We need two snaps and I'm going to give you your new fingerprints. Stand still,"

Brilliant, not an idiot. She stood still and did as the girl instructed and the whole procedure was over in two minutes. Then she headed to wardrobe.

"Natasha! I'm apologising in advance. You're going to hate this, but your cover's already been worked out and I'm not one to argue with the boss," Daisy, a small, young member of the wardrobe team greeted her.

Natasha liked Daisy. Daisy was a sweet girl who was friendly to all. She didn't know much about anything but clothes but she was very good at clothes in fairness. She was certain Daisy didn't have a mean bone in her body, which Natasha appreciated. It was hard to stay nice, especially when one worked in an organisation such as S.H.I.E.L.D. Evil reared its ugly head far too often.

"Oh god,"

"From what I can gather, you and Hill are undercover as a young newlywed couple on vacation in Rome-"

"Well, that doesn't sound bad,"

"Nat, what do couples like to do?"

"I have literally no idea,"

"Okay, sweetie we need to get you out more, when you're back, obviously," Daisy smiled. "They like to look nice for each other,"

"Well, that doesn't-"

"I'm talking this, as your first outfit," Daisy said, picking up a dress from the pile. It was bright pink, short, but tight, with flimsy little straps. It meshed around the middle to give more of a waist. It would be the 3rd thing to make Natasha want to vomit in the space of about 30 minutes.

"That's disgusting. I won't exactly blend in in that,"

"Honey, it's Rome. It's like the fashion capital. You'll be fine. Sure a nun might look at you twice, but that's it,"

"It's a good thing I love my job,"

"That it is. You haven't even seen the shoes yet,"