That was how she found herself in New York less than two weeks later. It had been a whirlwind period of activity. She'd stayed up most of the night after the man left her flat, going over the conversation and waiting for Ronald to get home. After she'd gotten him to believe her, which didn't take much after she showed him the business card and told him the starting salary, their phone rang.

"Thank fuck," the voice said, and Miranda had to lift the phone away from her ear for a minute and stare at it. She should have been asking how he got their number, but considering he'd broken into their flat, it was probably somewhere around the difficulty equivalent of her tying her shoes.

When she lifted the phone back to her ear, the man was speaking to someone else. "We've got her," he said, with obvious relief, and were those cheers in the background?

"How the hell did you know that?" she demanded. "Did you seriously bug my flat?"

She could practically hear him rolling his eye. "Yes. Problem?" he said, daring her to protest.

She considered it. "Well, since I'm going to be moving out shortly, no, I suppose it's not a huge issue."

"That's the spirit. Our agents will be in touch. Your workplaces have already been informed, so you don't have to worry about them. I suggest you start packing."

He hung up without saying goodbye, and Miranda stared at the phone for a moment.

"I'm not sure what we're getting ourselves into," she told Ron, who'd appeared at her shoulder.

"I like a little adventure in my life," he said, smiling and hugging her around the waist.

"So do I," she told him. "But I'm not sure I want this much."

He laughed at her, and hugged her more tightly.

Indeed, their jobs had been taken care of, and the next day an agent showed up at their door.

"Hello," she said pleasantly, sticking a hand out for them to shake. "I'm Agent Carter. I'm here to assist you with any preparations you need to make for the journey to New York, including packing and shipping possessions, if you wish to take some with you. May I come in?"

Miranda pushed Ron gently out of the way. "Of course. Would you like some tea?"

"That would be lovely."

They sat down in the living room with their cups of tea and planned out their future. Miranda and Ron both agreed that they would want to take some things with them, but otherwise leave the flat as is, for when (if) they came back. The agent seemed nonplussed by that statement, but Miranda suspected she'd long since been trained out of any telling facial expressions.

"Do you have any other questions?" she asked, looking up from their completed plans for flights and shipping boxes.

"Actually, yes," Miranda said, looking at Ron. "I'm just wondering if you know what I'll actually be doing. I mean, Mr Fury told me I'd be working in a medical capacity, but he didn't really specify what I'd be doing."

"I'm afraid I don't have the details at this time," she said, smiling apologetically. "I can make a note of it and have someone higher up look into it, but I don't know what else to tell you for now."

Miranda nodded. She'd expected as much. "Then I think that's it unless Ron..." She glanced at her husband, who shook his head.

Agent Carter stood up. "It was very nice to meet you. Thank you for the tea, and if you do have any other questions, don't hesitate to call."

She handed them a card almost identical to the one they already had sitting on their kitchen table. The only difference was the name and phone number. Miranda wondered what company made them, because they looked expensive, and if SHIELD was as big as she was beginning to understand it was, then that would be a hell of a lot of money.

She didn't say it though, and after the agent had left, she collapsed on the couch, feeling exhausted.

"Are you regretting this yet?" she asked Ron, knowing without looking up that he'd followed her into the room. "Because I think I am."

He laughed at her, but it wasn't really at her, mostly in acknowledgement that their life seemed to be going in all sorts of crazy directions.

And really, it was laugh or cry, and she knew which one she was going to choose when, the next week, they arrived at the airport for their flight to find out that their plane was a private jet, containing only them, their luggage that they hadn't shipped, and two SHIELD agents. One was Agent Carter, who they were familiar with, and the other was Agent Sitwell, who seemed nice enough, even if a bit quiet.

New York was... well, Miranda didn't really know how to describe it. It was huge and daunting and full of people, all sorts of them.

Agent Carter had to leave shortly after they arrived at the airport, so it was just them and Agent Sitwell to accompany them to their new flat, or apartment as he referred to it.

They'd gotten to help pick it out, Agent Carter showing them on her tablet multiple flats that SHIELD had deemed suitable for them to live in. They were all close to the SHIELD headquarters, which was apparently important, but their architectural styles were all different. They finally settled on one that was a converted loft, open and airy with lots of light. Miranda didn't want to know how much it cost, because she assumed it was expensive. Their flat in London was bad enough, and it wasn't even downtown or as nice as the one they picked out in New York.

But Mr Fury had said SHIELD would pay for everything, and she figured they may as well get their money's worth.

When they arrived, the furniture that they'd send the week before was already in place. Most of their belongings were unpacked and placed into the same spots as they were back in London. It was somewhat unnerving, but Miranda didn't want to stop and think about it. There was still plenty to be done.

Agent Sitwell left them shortly after, explaining that the fridge was stocked with food, they had been left American money in case they wanted to do some shopping, and that they would both be picked up in the morning for training.

Miranda was anxious to explore the neighbourhood, but with the time difference and everything that had happened in so few days, she was exhausted. Ron must have felt the same way, because they were both asleep in only minutes, their suitcases sitting, still packed, on the floor.