Tapping through her day's itinerary, Maria marched through the halls of the Tower, sliding a finger across her personal touch-pad and reviewing the summons that was sent to her. Saturdays were primarily one of her days off, saving for when the team was on mission, and she did not want to spend the first one of March cooped up in a meeting for too long. Sighing, she made her way down to the expansive personal offices. Expecting most of the team, she was a little surprised to only see Natasha at one of the desks, fingers jumping along the keyboard as she maneuvered files to fill the computer screens facing her. Heels clicking along the polished floor, Maria merely took it in stride as she approached her fellow ex-agent.

"Anything new?" she asked. Natasha and she had jointly been monitoring the reverse tracking system that day, in the hopes that Loki's scepter would come into range and give up the last of HYDRA that defended it. Though JARVIS was on the case as well, the two women had designated the task as their own, as well as outlying threats. Maria more often than not brought potential missions to the fore, but Natasha liked to be on top of things herself. It was better all around for the pair to work together.

In answer, Natasha shook her head to the tracking digital read-out; not so much as a blip had pinged on the radar in regards to that. The scepter was well-hidden, most likely underground and used so sparingly that it couldn't be registered. Maybe Bruce would have to adjust the parameters again. Instead, she pulled up other databases, reports forwarded secretly and securely to the Avengers, in the hopes that they would take an interest in the cases cropping up around the globe.

Filling the screen with a map of Africa, Natasha traced her finger along the edge and murmured, "There's some abnormal movement along the African coast. Some reports of insurgents traveling up and down between the countries, but with no insignia and minimal contact with civilians. All they know is that when they do approach civilians, they 'speak with strange accents' if they do speak with them at all."

That was all the information gathered, but it still intrigued her. Her bright eyes darted from screen to screen, eyewitness accounts and covert photographs filtering in and out. New dissenting factions cropped up everyday, but this seemed...too familiar. Too organized, with efficient movements around and away from civilian populations, not to mention the massive trucks and tanks that had been reported. Maria glanced at her, shared a long looking of understanding. The brunette leaned forward to examine the screen, eyes narrowing in thought.

"It's probably worth looking into," she replied noncommittally, already mentally backlogging the information shared so she could begin her own investigations later. The other woman nodded, eyebrow arching perfectly.

"Given the fact that they appear to be shipping massive cargo, we should. But so far, they haven't done anything. And being armed while traveling between countries isn't exactly out of the realm of possibility," she conceded, knowing full well that what they were looking at was, sadly, not terribly out of the ordinary. Armies moved in and out all the time. Her gut, however, clenched when she stared longer at the files. There was more to it, she just knew.

Shifting through another set of pictures, Natasha sat up straighter, one sticking out of the mix. The unmarked soldiers were carrying weapons, but they didn't look like any sort of guns she'd ever seen before. Unfortunately, the picture was too grainy to truly know. Gesturing to her right, she forwarded the stack of pictures to Maria's tablet.

"Can you get a clearer picture of what they're armed with?" she asked, watching as Hill perused them, her brow furrowing. "They look...odd."

Maria half grinned, rising from her chair and dipping her chin. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks. I've got a feeling more is going on than meets the eye."

With nothing more to be said, Maria gave her a waggle of the fingers in lieu of a farewell, becoming absorbed in the task. The aura of confidence around Natasha slid away, her demeanor becoming pensive as she continued to stare at her monitors. Something in her stomach told her that whatever was happening across the world, it wasn't anything good. There was no way to explain it; however, it was feeling she was familiar with. She'd felt it before Budapest, before the battle of New York...many times, and her gut had not steered her wrong. However, as she had nothing concrete to go on, she would reserve her judgment. The team didn't need to know about it just yet. It was all so suspicious, though. It would be her responsibility to monitor the situation, and she would handle the new developments as they came. No need to potentially endanger any of her friends' lives if this ultimately came to nothing.

She could be wrong, for once; perhaps it was just an issue that did not need to be looked into by the Avengers. But if she was right...the Black Widow would exterminate the threat. One way or another.

xXxXxXx

Lower in the building, two people descended into the open training arena, side by side and chatting as they went. The room had a boxing ring in one corner, some punching bags and dummies off to the side, and one half of the floor was covered with mats that brought memories of high school gym classes and wrestling matches to mind. Holly, gathering her hair back into a short ponytail, shrugged her shoulders off the studious look of her companion. Running a hand through his close-cropped hair, Clint Barton rolled his shoulders back, centering his body as he pondered what she'd just said.

"You know, normally taking advice from a movie is not exactly kosher, but that one...not so bad," he said after a minute, inclining his head. Holly smiled at that, stretching her arms up before dropping them down towards the floor.

"Sandy B. had all our backs in that one," she proclaimed, straightening up after another second or two. She'd never thought she could take something of use away from a romantic comedy, but the S.I.N.G. method seemed to have some merit. Running it by Clint, she was pleased to see that it wasn't wholly shut down by the agent.

He rolled his eyes. "So long as at some point, you get a shot at the groin, right?"

"Whatever allows me to get away." She made a scurrying motion with her hands, the smirk she sported growing wider when Clint returned it. Clapping his hands together once, the ex-agent took his place at the center of the floor, motioning for her to join him.

"Alright, showtime."

Glancing up at the paneled walkway above, she groaned, "God, I hope nobody's watching this."

Really, she just hoped Steve wouldn't be watching,or Natasha, for that matter. Really, anybody else in the building. Her level of expertise was sitting squarely at the lowest possible, in her estimation; she did not want her newbie skills on display at the moment.

Clint snorted, following her gaze. "I make no promises. Way too many glass walls in this building."

"Good thing that didn't extend to the private rooms," she muttered, twitching the hem of her shirt and not quite looking him in the eye. Barton shot her a significant look, as well as a wide smirk.

"Yeah, we probably don't want to see what's going on in your end of the building."

"Shut up."

"Hey, now," he chided her, crossing his arms over his chest. "Show some respect to your sensei."

"Whatever, Katniss," Holly retorted, enjoying the stalling far too much to push past it.

"And here I thought you'd go with the Legolas reference." Off her inquisitive expression, he clarified, "Stark does it all the time."

"Too obvious, and you're too...not elvish." Blowing out a breath, she glanced once more at the upper walkway, she asked, "Should I just meet you in the middle and call you Daryl?"

"Crossbow notwithstanding, I'll take that over a teenage girl with a thing for bread."

"Wrong kind of pita."

Shaking his head, Barton said no more but gestured to the mat, indicating that stalling any longer would be futile. Sighing, Holly took a step forward, ready for another round of pain. Since meeting with Clint to train was going to be sporadic at best, he determined that for every day she was at the Tower, they would meet for a coupe hours at a time. Barring injury or missions, naturally, but it would be necessary. So far, the experience had been enlightening. Her self-defense courses were teaching her to use the minimal amount of energy and force to inflict the maximum amount of pain on an attacker, and Barton emphasized that. However, he also had a proclivity for armed combat, and had mentioned that in the future, he would incorporate options that allowed for the use of her baseball bat (he could make accommodations for her weapon of choice; after all, he had his own, and was alive today because of it).

For now, though, he was teaching her how use the natural defenses of her body: using the knees, elbows, and head. This was covered in class, but he insisted on going over everything, making sure the skills were driven into her memory. As well as that, he wanted to explain how the attacker would be thinking as he was going after her. Getting into the mind of the assailant could allow her to anticipate actions, counter them. So far, it was a lot of potential threats that ultimately landed her on her back, staring at the overhead lights and and hand extended in her peripherals to get her back up again.

It was worth it, she reminded herself, sweating dripping from her brow as Clint helped her back onto her feet. It was something she needed to know, for her safety, for her life. And after the last couple of weeks, she felt like she was retaining most of it. It was the trickier stuff that was knocking her down, but she was getting better, little by little.

They worked on escapes for several minutes, over and over until her brain pounded and her body started to grow weary. At one point, Barton came at her from the side, hand locking around her wrist firmly. Dropping a little, she put as much power as she could into her stance, bending her elbow as she leaned forward. As it came towards his forearm, he was forced to release her. Given an opening, she rose, driving her knee up and actually catching him off-guard in the stomach before shouldering him away. He stumbled back, hand to his gut and breathing hard. Her first instinct was to get closer, to see if he was alright, but in one of the first sessions they had, he sharply reprimanded her. She had to behave like she'd felled an attacker, and stay away; sentiment was fine and all, but on that mat, it had no place.

Glancing up at her, he managed a small grin, getting onto his knees.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't go right for the balls."

Bracing her hands on her thighs, she snickered. "This time."

Getting back onto his feet, Clint gave her a look of approval. She was learning, and she wasn't giving up. The kid definitely had that in her favor. It would do her well in the long run. But she was far from being an expert. Bending his knees a little, he lifted his arms.

"Another round."

Muttering darkly, Holly opened up her stance. Still worth it, she thought, as she waited for him to execute his next move.

xXxXxXx

"Good Lord, Holl. You look like hell."

Holly glared at the screen propped on her lap, taking another swing from her water bottle. Her family had a penchant for being too forthright with one another, but sometimes she wished her brother could have learned to be a little more tactful.

"Nice to see you, too, Hank. I was training, for your information," she replied, plucking at her shirt to allow air flow in. Her training with Clint finished for the day, she'd been on her way to shower and change when the Skype call came in. Forgoing her plans for the moment, she settled for doing whatever she could to make the sweat dry faster as they spoke. At least she had the living room to herself; Steve was out, discussing possible armor upgrades for his suit with Tony.

Snorting, Hank raised his eyebrows. "For what? The Ninth Circle Fun Run?"

Closing her eyes, she shook her head at him. "Like you've read Inferno."

Hank shrugged, smirking widely. "Reading the Cliff Notes counts. Or it did with my professor, back in the day. But anyway, training for..."

"For myself. Self-defense," she explained, seeing the precise moment when his hazel eyes began to reflect concern over poking fun at her.

"Have you been in trouble?"

"No," she replied immediately, her haste making her sound slightly unbelievable if his expression was any indication. Tilting her chin up, she continued, "But it never hurts to be prepared."

"Following your Boy Scout boyfriend's mantra, I bet." Hank held up three fingers, mocking tone in his voice. Granted, he was using the incorrect salute (she wasn't going to set him straight; it was privately amused her), but it didn't take away from his point.

Her dark eyes narrowed. "Because I can't make the decision to start protecting myself on my own, right?"

The warning note in her voice told him he was treading on thin ice, and he had no desire to keep pushing that.

"I didn't mean—" Hank cut himself off midstream, noticing something over her shoulder. Having heard the approach herself, she bit her lip to stop the smarmy smirk that threatened to bloom. Glancing back, she met Steve's bright gaze, face passive as he leaned and settled his arms along the back of the couch. Tilting the screen back a little, Holly set the laptop down on the coffee table, waiting to see how things would go. To say that the relationship between her boyfriend and her brother was tenuous was a slight understatement, but they'd been on civil terms after Christmas, as far as she knew.

"Hello, Hank," Steve greeted the other man, his tone measured.

"Steve," he returned, leaning back in his seat on his end. "Doing good?"

"Alive and kicking, as they say," Steve remarked, placing a hand on Holly's shoulder as he spoke. "And yourself?"

Hank shrugged, gaze cutting to the left. "I'm fine."

"The rest of the family, too? Everyone's okay?"

"Yeah. Dad mentioned that you called, said he meant to get back to you earlier," her brother reported, a corner of his mouth lifting. "Anything you care to divulge on that?"

The captain darted a look at Holly swiftly, her curiosity growing as he shrugged and glanced away himself.

"Had a couple of questions for him about coming out here. I can wait until he has the time," he explained, quelling her unspoken questions for the moment. Squeezing her shoulder, he leaned over and gave her a peck on the temple before looking back at Hank. "I didn't mean to horn in on your catching up. I'll leave you to it. Bye, Hank."

"Later, dude," he called out as Steve walked away and disappeared into the bedroom. Holly exhaled softly, linking her hands together and resting them in her lap.

"Wow, you two have a love affair for the ages."

"Oh yeah, it's burning with the fire of a thousand suns," Hank retorted sarcastically. She sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I should just be glad that you're getting along, period."

That made him pause, really look at her. In a moment of clarity, the amusement drained away.

"You really think I don't like him. He's not a bad guy, I know that. It's..." Hank trailed off, his voice lost for the moment. Still, she understood what he wasn't saying; they'd talked at length, a few times, about the danger of being involved with a national icon, an operative...a superhero. Grunting, the older brother brushed through his dark hair, waving a hand superfluously. "We're not getting into that again."

"No, we don't need to," Holly agreed. She definitely didn't want to have that pointless conversation again.

"We're on decent terms. We'll just leave it at that."

"Okay," she said. Tapping a finger on her knee, she turned over all the thoughts in her mind, choosing one. "Change of subject: Mom said you're seeing someone new."

"Oh, geez," Hank groaned, though Holly could swear she caught a brief sheepish grin when he tried turning away.

"Come on, give Little Sis the deets, as the hip youths say," she said, brightening a little as she teased him. Quickly, he confessed that he had had a couple dates with a new girl (who frankly sounded worlds better than his ex-wife, but she couldn't be sure until she actually met the woman), but it wasn't a big deal. Shifting the conversation yet again, the pair got caught up, reports on how Jodie was doing in school and such followed by how life was progressing on her end. Holly was happy to hear whatever he had to say; though she and her sister were closer in age, Hank had been the one she really bonded with as they were growing up. Once he got out of his "yuck-my-sister" phase, at least. He'd been there for her, through bad break-ups and major changes and so much else. It was hard to disagree with him at times, but whatever came between them, they found a way to work around it. She missed him, and the rest of the family, a lot.

With a promise to get in touch again soon, Holly closed her laptop, pressing back into the couch and taking a deep breath before she got to her feet. Padding quietly to the bedroom, she let the door swing open, resting her shoulder on the jamb. Steve was on the bed, bent over a new sketchbook, one pencil tucked behind his ear and a different one moving across the paper. Glancing up at the sound of the door opening, the warmth of his gaze flooded her before his eyes switched back the book. Kicking off her shoes, she took a seat beside him. She watched him sketch for a moment, looping shapes taking form, turning into hands, a timepiece.

"Sorry that took so long," she apologized. The time she had with him was precious, slipping by so quickly that she found herself aching and wanting whenever she had to leave. She had her own life, her own place in the world, but that didn't negate how much she wanted him to be part of it for more than just a moment here and there. In her heart, she knew he felt the same way.

He was still attending to the sketchbook, but he still shook his head in response to her words.

"It's okay. It's your family," he said, blue eyes reflecting understanding as another pencil stroke graced the paper. Gently, she reached out, placing her hand on his wrist and making him pause in his drawing. She waited until his full attention was on her before slipping her arms around his shoulders, face pressed into the crook of his neck. Carefully he took her into his embrace, holding her for the moment.

"So are you," she whispered, so softly she wasn't sure that Steve, with his scary-good hearing, could hear it. It was the truth, and she couldn't help but speak it, in any case. Deep down, he had become more than just her friend, her lover, more than she could say beyond those words. He must have heard, though, if his tighter embrace and eventual deep kiss were anything to go by.

Pulling back a little, he wrinkled his nose briefly before grinning. "You should go get ready."

Her eyebrows inclined a fraction. "Why?"

"Because I wanna take my girl out, and I don't think you want to wear your sweats around town," he said, tugging at the garment in question. Returning his expression, she grazed his lips with another kiss and slid away.

"As stylish as they are, I think I'll do that."

xXxXxXx

"You know, the city is starting to grow on me," Holly confessed, casting her gaze out towards the buildings that cropped up above the treeline. The pair were wandering around Central Park, hand in hand as the day began to wind down. With disguises donned (heavy sunglasses for her, the horn-rimmed glasses and ball cap for him—Yankees, which he hated. Still, it served better than a Dodgers cap would; he would've stuck out with one of those on), they'd spent the afternoon exploring the city. Crowded and crammed as it was, they had a good time marching around the streets, the traditional sights eschewed in favor of finding ones off the beaten path. One such place was the diner they had dinner at; another included the art shop Steve had discovered a few months ago, with Holly perusing the gallery and him ogling the supplies being sold. The underground bookstore was a new favorite; she hadn't been able to walk away from that without a novel in hand. If they were spotted or stared at by anyone, they had the decency to not push themselves forward; both had been caught in the autograph fray before, and even if on occasion it could be tolerated (any support for the team was good), it would not ave been welcomed at that time. Nestling close to his side as they walked, she noticed the flash of pleasure across his features, the concurring nod following closely.

"It has a certain appeal. Definitely for the creative crowd, I can say that much," he replied, tugging on the bill of his cap with a brief twist of distaste on his lips. The glasses were removed awhile ago, tucked into a pocket of his leather jacket as they went along.

She giggled. "How fortunate for you."

"For both of us," he pointed out. The literary force for the country had taken up residence in the city, appealing to aspiring authors as others appealed to the artistic crowd. "Which does make me wonder why you didn't move here initially when you came out to the east coast."

"The dart landed closer to D.C."

Steve snickered at that. Long ago, he'd asked her why she moved out east in the first place, back when they'd first met. It had come down to being her last year of college, and she'd had a realization that she really had never left home, been anywhere, done anything new. Not liking it, she'd hauled out a map of the states, took her brother's darts, and would move after graduation to whatever city the dart landed closest to. Holly had confessed that it was big risk, but one she was willing to take, in the end.

"You had veto power," he recalled, knowing she would have set a contingency in place if she didn't like the outcome.

Holly tipped her head to the left. "Yes. But to those of us who weren't born and raised here, New York can be very intimidating. D.C. didn't strike me that way."

"Despite being a continual target," he couldn't resist interjecting.

She shrugged, the shoulders of her jacket hunching. "A lot of people in that city work daily to keep it, and the country, at a decent level of safety, for the most part. It was an adventure, moving somewhere new. Hadn't ever moved before, not even for college. I thought Mom was gonna have a stroke when I told her my plan."

Steve faux-grimaced. "No offense, but I can see Lisa having a bit of an issue with it."

"None taken." Holly couldn't refute the point; while a good woman, her mom had a tendency to smother those in her sphere of influence. Not to mention borrow trouble to the nth degree, a trait that she had inherited (to a lesser extent, of course). "And in her place, I can understand it; her youngest daughter decided to pull up sticks and move out to the other side of the country. I'd be concerned, too."

"Must have been tough, either way."

Holly gave a little hum of agreement. "It was, but once I got there, I did my best to keep busy, make it a new home. And it has been, for almost five years. I was originally going to be out there for one, but, well, winters on the coast are a little more tolerable than when you're landlocked. And then some pretty neat stuff began going on, so it was better to stay."

His grip on her hand tightened, the grin on his lips a little shy. "Not to mention you've met some interesting people."

The smile she gave, a special one he hadn't ever seen her give anyone else, melted his heart. "Very true."

They walked on in silence for a few minutes, staying close as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Steve took stock of the park around them: trees on the verge of life once more, the worn footpath, benches, the people on their own journeys through. They'd gotten far enough to see the Bethesda Fountain in sharp detail, it and its terrace only a short distance away. He swallowed, dragging his gaze up to the hazy sky for a moment, drawing inspiration to speak.

"Well, I'm glad you took the chance, in any case," he told her, slowing in his steps. Coming to a full halt, he turned to face her. Her dark eyes reflected curiosity at his pause, and he coughed once, endeavoring to sound nonchalant. "Would you ever risk that again? Moving, I mean. Just, you know, in the future..."

Against his own volition, he felt his nerves snap and fray, the quiet following his words eating at him. Fingers shifted under his, but did not pull away. Taking measured breaths, he gauged her reaction to his question. There was no outrage, no outright rejection. Pure thoughtfulness decorated her face, a faint tint of pink on her cheeks as she considered her answer.

"Not gonna rule it out," she replied slowly, as though she were speaking to a frightened animal. He chided himself inwardly for stumbling over his words, something he didn't do often around her anymore. "It could happen, under the right circumstances."

The emphasis on the final words could not be missed. Something inside him loosened, felt better as she spoke. Circumstances...the right ones...Steve dipped his chin once, no response on his tongue but a blooming smile on his mouth. Cupping her chin in one hand, he moved in for a kiss, but was cut off by the tremor of the ground under his feet. A distant boom blossomed in its wake. Jerking away suddenly, he scanned the area, noting the confused and nervous expressions on the men and women nearby. Something was wrong. Sharing a worried glance with Holly, he looked up, above the treeline. A billow of smoke, blotting the sunset, hovered in the air far away, sirens wailing in the distance.

"What was—" Holly wondered, gripping his arm and following his gaze. Taking her by the elbow, he began to guide her away, out of the park. Memories blotted his mind, flashing in and out as they moved. It was too familiar, something he knew too well to be wrong about.

"An explosion." His mouth was set in a grim line, the thud of his heart echoing in his ears.

"Oh, no," she gasped, face paling. This was definitely not good. Intertwining their fingers again, Steve set the pace, looking for the quickest route out.

"Come on."

A/N: Oh hey, cliffhanger, how you doin'? ;) Sorry to leave it there, folks, but that's just the way things happened! I apologize if everything seems a little disjointed at the moment, but again, I'm building up to things; there is a point to all this!

Holly's no star ninja, but she's learning! And brother Hank makes his first "Eleventh Hour" appearance. Yeah...oh, and that explosion? All shall be explained...as well as a few other things.

Don't mind me, I always laugh evilly to myself...

I don't own any elements from the MCU, Miss Congeniality, The Hunger Games, The Lord of the Rings, The Walking Dead, or Dante's The Divine Comedy: Inferno. Landmarks from the city of New York, while beautiful, also do no belong to me. Same goes for technologies/stuff that seems like I don't own it.

I'll try to update again before Christmas, but just in case I can't: merry/happy Christmas/holidays! Have fun!

Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you for the next one!