I kept to my room the next day, bent over my computer, trying to compose an e-mail to Katie and failing. My hands shook each time I tried to type and I nearly threw my computer to the wall out of pure anxiety. I stared at my computer screen. The words Dear Katie, were the only words I'd written. I chewed on my lip, feeling frustrated with my inability to focus. My thoughts were running all over the place and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

Three days, I thought bleakly, dropping my hands into my lap. Three days until this ship is sabotaged, and I can't do a thing about it. If I tell them anything, I implicate myself in the whole situation. Why did I have to listen to him?

I exhaled loudly and closed out the mail application, knowing that I wasn't going to finish it. I never do. After three years, I still can't finish the email. When the application closed, I stared at my reflection in the computer screen, past the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo. All I saw was a woman with tired blue eyes, a worn face, and messy hair. Frowning, I reached up and tried to smooth my hair down, noticing that it was sticking up at awkward angles.

I leaned back in my chair and stared at myself in the computer screen again. "He knows I'm not going to," I said aloud, staring at the gray wall, mentally panicking "He knows I'm not."

"Not going to what?" Captain Roger's quiet voice said behind me. I spun around quickly in my chair, my pulse escalating when I realized that he had been standing there for at least a minute or two. I forced a smile and licked my lips, trying to come up with a lame excuse.

"My sister's husband...he keeps trying to convince me to go to this...country club with them," I lied lamely. I looked at Roger's uniform with a surprised grin. He wore a blue suit probably made out of spandex, emblazoned with a silver star on his chest, red gloves, red and black boots, and five or six red and white strips across his midriff. It wasn't nearly as dumb as the horny helmet.

"Country club?" he repeated with confusion, his eyebrows coming together. "What is that?"

"Did they not have country clubs in the 1940s?" I teased playfully. "It's like a...a club for rich people to drink fancy drinks and swim and talk about their money." My parents invited me out with them once or twice during my high school years but I was an anti-social computer programmer back then. I still am.

"Oh." Glancing around, his eyes asked for an invitation and I nodded. "These rooms are really small."

"Yeah." I tapped my fingers on my legs anxiously, waiting for him to speak. Rogers adjusted himself awkwardly and took a step in, asking for an invitation.

"Um...I was sent on behalf of Directory Fury." Carefully, he sat down on the edge of my bed. "I don't exactly know why he asked me to talk to you."

"Probably because he hates me and doesn't want to do it himself," I said with a shrug of acceptance.

"I don't think that's it, Miss Pedagia," Rogers said seriously, clasping his hands together. "But he does want me to ask you a question that we think might help us understand everything that's going on." I watched as he shifted closer towards me, his eyes downcast.

"What's that?" I asked, racking my brain to find the question myself. Rogers looked down for a minute and his hands, and then raised his eyes to mine, apologetic.

"Have you been compromised?"

I kept completely still, struggling with every muscle in my body to keep my face as calm and composed as possible to keep from giving away my disbelief. Unlike Loki, Rogers waited for my response patiently instead of attempting to find the answer himself.

"Why does he ask that?" I asked, barely managing to control the trembling in my voice.

"Because there was some video footage from late last night that...raises suspicion." Roger again looked down, feeling embarrassed. I almost felt sorry for him myself. "I don't really...have to remind you, do I?"

"No," I agreed, lowering my eyes. "Not really."

"Miss Pedagia, I'm not...trying to be rude," Captain Rogers said, inching closer towards me on the edge of the bed like a shy teenager. "But I think you're hiding something from us. I mean, I think you're as important as the President but there's something that gets us all scratching our heads: why is a computer expert worried about someone like him?"

"As important as the President?" I repeated, a grin tugging at the corner of my lips. "Thanks."

"You still haven't answered my question," Rogers interjected, frowning at me now.

"Well, do you even know the entire story?" I asked a little sharper than I intended.

"Of course I do. Mr. Coulson was kind enough to fill me in on the situation, and your name kept coming up, so..." he trailed off obviously.

I chewed on my lip, deliberating. The sudden presence of warmth on my hand startled me and I looked up to see Steve's blue eyes pleading with mine. I barely knew the man, but I felt my heart break into two. His hand curled around mine and squeezed gently.

What are you up to? I thought warily.

"Please, Elle," he said softly, squeezing my hand again. "Whatever it is, we'll protect you. You're not in any trouble."

Oh, I could just tell them everything right now, I thought sadly. If I could.

Instead I chose to take the route that might solve at least one of my situations. "I...I have a sister, Captain-"

"Steve," he interrupted me immediately.

"Steve," I repeated nervously. "I have a sister and she's married and has a daughter named Megan. She's my niece and...and I never see her." I took a deep breath. "Loki has Agent Barton following their every move and he promises to have snipers kill them if I..."

"If you what?"

I exhaled again, looking away from him. "If I revealed anything he planned to do. I knew that he was going to Stuttgart, Steve, but I was worried that if I revealed it and S.H.I.E.L.D. arrived early, he would have them killed in an instant."

"I'm so sorry," Steve said seriously, sounding as if they had already been killed. "It's not easy. I know firsthand." It occurred to me that the 20-something man sitting beside me was actually at least 70 years old, if not older.

"You have to understand, Steve, I never met to hurt anyone or sabotage S.H.I.E.L.D., but when the life of your only sister is threatened, and..." I swallowed a lump in my throat. "She doesn't even know what I do or where I am..."

"It's okay," Steve murmured again, squeezing my hand. "I understand, Elle. Relax."

I almost felt better, like a weight was nearly lifted off of my chest. Nearly. I still had the knowledge that in understand 36 hours, Agent Barton was going to lead an army and storm the Helicarrier.

"Elle, is there anything else you can tell us about his plans? Anything at all," he clarified, his eyes becoming serious again. "Don't hide anything. We're flying blind here, and you're our intelligence."

As I watched Steve's eyes plead with mine, I weighed the pros and cons.

Pros: weight is off my chest, we all survive the attack.

Cons: I'm labelled a traitor to S.H.I.E.L.D., more than likely killed or sentenced to life in prison. Never see my family again. Probably brain-washed, or worse.

I decided to be selfish. Besides, S.H.I.E.L.D. had handled worse, right?

"My visit to Loki was to rub it in his face," I whispered hoarsely. "I don't know anything else."

Congrats, Elle. You just put the fate of thousands of people in your hands. I silenced the voice in the back of my mind that told me I made a huge mistake.

Steve was silent. I watched as he contemplated my words, wondering if I was lying or not. After a few moments, his face softened.

"I'm sorry that you had to go through all this." He lowered his head, looking defeated. "I didn't want any of this."

I mulled over his words for a moment. "You sound like this is all your fault. It's not."

"It is," he murmured brokenly, sliding his hands from mine. "I should have grabbed the Tesseract from Schmidt while I had the chance. I was too focused on stopping him for blowing up the entire Eastern seaboard."

"Well, at the time, I'm sure it was more important to save the Eastern seaboard than a little blue cube," I assured him. "I mean, you didn't know how important it was." I offered him a smile when he glanced up at me, still doubtful. "Seriously. Um...I really think you're not at fault here."

"Thanks," Rogers snorted, leaning backwards and crossing his arms. He sighed forlornly, sounding wistful. "I don't think I'll ever be able to forget that moment. Putting her down...and..." he shook his head, smiling grimly. "At least I had company."

"Company?" I echoed curiously. I'd never heard Steve's story before. "What company?"

"Peggy," he said softly, his eyes glazing over at the mention of her name. "Peggy Carter."

"Was she your wife or something?" I asked shortly, not wanting to hear another sob story. I feel like I'll forever hate couples until I'm one of them.

"No," he laughed. "But I wish I had the chance to ask her. She's gone now. I...I looked her up. She passed away 10 years ago. We were supposed to go dancing at the end of it all..." his voice faded away, and he became silent. I slipped back into my shell, feeling embarrassed that I brought up a sore subject. We sat in silence for a few more moments.

"I'm sorry," I finally mumbled, looking down at my hands, particularly at my ring finger, which was devoid of a ring, and probably will be.

"What about you? Is there a lucky man waiting for you back home?" Steve inquired, sitting upright.

I blinked at him in surprise, feeling my cheeks warm again. "No...um...I'm a computer technician." Rogers looked at me expectantly, raising one eyebrow.

"What kind of excuse is that?"

A standard one, I thought obviously. I'm a computer nerd. People don't look at me. "Well, I don't really...I don't talk to people, I'm not noticed too much," I offered lamely.

"That isn't a excuse not to have companionship," he scolded me. "Listen, if there was anything I learned during that war, it's that...the promise of having someone waiting at home for you, at the end of it all, is the most promising reward you'll ever have." A grin tugged at his lips and he patted my leg. "Think about that."

24 hours.

I lied and said that I was sick with the stomach flu to give me an excuse to stay in my bed. During the day, Tony Stark's loud voice filled the hallway, and so did Steve's, and they were typically arguing like an old married couple. For all of the morning and most of the afternoon, I laid in bed listening to two voices inside my head. I didn't eat a bite. Dr. Banner offered to look me over to make sure that I wasn't actually sick, but I quickly declined before he figured out there was nothing wrong with me.

The two voices battled for hours inside my head. One voice told me to keep quiet and keep myself out of this mess. If we are attacked, just hope for the best. If all goes well, it will simply look like a surprise attack and we were the victor, crushing Loki's ego. The other voice told me to just give in and run to Fury now and spill everything. And beg for his forgiveness for hiding it. I was sure that he wouldn't take too kindly to me hiding it, but if I told him now, perhaps my punishment wouldn't be as severe.

I curled myself tighter into a ball and pressed my face further into the hard, cold pillow in the dark.

His words. His mind. They all worked together like a well oiled machine. Loki had managed to manipulate me into the worst position possible. Thor had warned me before I visited him that night that Loki was a cunning tricksters, as he's known as the God of Mischief on Asgard. I really should have listened to him.

Maybe if I hadn't gotten up and visited him that night, I wouldn't have known about Barton's plan. Maybe, I thought, I brought this on myself.

As if my luck couldn't get any worse, another knock on my door sounded for the second time today. I quickly stood up and turned on the light, blinking to focus my vision. I stumbled towards the door and opened it quickly.

My visitor was Agent Coulson, and he had the oddest expression on his face. "He wants to see you."