Saniya moaned into her pillow, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. What she wouldn't give to have Thor come back. She needed him more than ever for the emotional support she craved. Without him here, she was severely lacking in optimism and happiness.

She flopped the blankets off of her. Why did she even come up here? She hated being alone.

Well, she thought it would help get her mind in order, but without someone to vent to, her mind was messier than ever. So much for trying to be emotionally independent, she thought to herself. God, she was pathetic for even thinking she could make herself feel better, but she didn't know who to turn to.

It was hard to think of who would be the best to complain to when all she felt like doing was crying.

"Jarvis? Will you talk to me?" she croaked.

"I am able to, though, I do not recommend it since I have no capacity for sympathy. I am merely a series of codes."

He had a point, but Saniya didn't care. "Yeah, but...," she began.

"May I recommend speaking with Ms. Elliot? She will be able to fulfill your emotional needs."

She huffed, blowing several strands of hair off of her face. "That might be the best, actually. I can always count on you, Jarvis."

"She is en route to the room. Dr. Banner inquired about your well-being. Would you like for me to give him a message?"

Saniya squeezed the heels of her hand on her eyes. She wanted to see Bruce, but at the same time really didn't want to see him. He would just think she was a dramatic jerk if he saw her in this frame of mind.

"Tell him that he is really cute for caring, but physically I am fine."

"I believe he is questioning your emotional health," Jarvis said.

"Yeah, no. I feel really crappy right now," she grumbled. "I'll be better after I complain to Marsha."

The door opened abruptly then shut itself after a quiet 'oops'. Marsha knocked on the door, waiting for Saniya's permission to enter.

She sat up in the bed. "It's your room too," Saniya called out.

Marsha creaked the door open. She moved slowly, as if any sudden movements would set Saniya off. "Bruce told us what happened. I'm so sorry," she said.

Her stomach recoiled, causing her to fall back on the bed. "A lot of things make more sense, though," Saniya mumbled. She threw her hands in the air, waving them with bottled frustration. "I'm probably not even American! You were born in India and you're younger than me, so I most likely was too."

There was the large question of why her parents —adoptive parents— would lie about this. Wouldn't it have been easier to tell her the truth rather than have her always believe all those lies about who she was? Everything seemed unnecessary and she wished Bruce had never had told her the truth. At least then she could still live in the illusion that her adoptive parents were her actual parents and other things that used to be guaranteed. Now, there were giant question marks in areas of her life she was so certain she knew that answers to hours ago.

Marsha perched on the end of the bed. Her eyes were wide. "It's not so bad being adopted. I remember feeling awful when my parents first explained it to me, but your parents chose you. That's special."

Saniya crinkled her nose. "It's not the being adopted that's making me upset," she admitted. "It's just... because of SHIELD, I don't have my job, my apartment... I'll never have my old life back. It was sort of a lame life, but it was mine. They took that away from me." She forced herself to sit upright. "Who my parents were and being born in America were some of the few things I carried with me. They were constant no matter what happened. It sucks that I can't have that now, as stupid as it sounds."

She tapped her feet together in an unsteady rhythm. "It feels like a part of my identity was torn away from you. You know what I'm saying? I mean, it's not the biggest deal. It's not like I even want my adoptive parents in my life anymore, so why am I freaking out about this?"

Her sister stayed silent.

She raised an eyebrow. "Nothing inspirational to tell me to suck it up and move on?"

Marsha looked down at her hands. "I don't know what to say to make you feel better."

Marsha looked legitimately guilty for not being able to do anything. That gave her the feeling of kicking a puppy; she felt like an evil person. This moment was supposed to be all about her, but she was willing to save it for another time if it meant never seeing that expression on her sister's face again. She had to take Marsha's mind elsewhere.

Saniya bumped her shoulder, forcing a grin on her face. It was as stiff as a board, but Marsha bought it, returning it with her own. "I'm sure you didn't react as badly as me to finding out you were adopted."

"No, my mom and dad told me pretty early on." She gave her a sad smile. "I didn't really know what the word meant until two kids from school were teasing me, though. My parents and I had a real talk about my adoption after that." Marsha's face fell. "I miss them."

"When was the last time you saw them?"

She twisted her sleeves. "Too long ago." Marsha squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands. "I never should have left home. They must be so worried."

There wasn't any thought of repercussions when the idea came to her mind. Saniya leaned over to pull her phone from a drawer in the nightstand. "SHIELD will throw a hissy fit, but call them."

The suggestion made Marsha look at her through the slits in her fingers. "What?" Her eyes fluttered to the flip phone in her hand.

She nodded, pressing the device in Marsha's palm. "Yeah. I mean, you can't tell them anything that has happened, but at least they won't think you're dead in some ditch."

Marsha flinched. "What do I even tell them?" she whimpered.

"A lie," Saniya concluded after several moments of thoughts. "A believable one."

The light drained out of her eyes. This hit Saniya worse than before. "I don't want to lie to them."

"You have to." Her expression softened as Marsha pressed a number into the phone.

The exact moment one of her parents picked up could be seen by the way Marsha was reinvigorated with life. It was so uplifting that Saniya's smile became real.

"Mommy," she gasped into the phone. Tears —of either happiness from hearing her mom's voice or sadness from being the last time she'll ever hear her voice— ran down her face. "It's me. Is dad there?"

Saniya brought her hands to her heart and struggled to stay upright on one leg.

"And then—" She gasped, catching herself before she fell off the side of the building. "And then it was basically a whole bawling fest. Her parents were crying, she was crying, I was crying. They talked for a whole hour before she finally told them she wasn't coming home."

Clint rechecked the harness he strapped around her body. Yoga on top of a skyscraper was the best idea he had yet. They both were enjoying it more than a normal person would; Clint and Saniya were similar in their love for high places. Of course, she would prefer to go harness-less, but Clint didn't let that happen.

He gave her a side glance. "You don't know that."

Her body tensed. "I do know that," she gritted through her teeth. "SHIELD isn't going to let either of us go."

"You're so negative. Have some hope for the future," he teased. He moved into Warrior's Pose, motioning for her to copy with a flick of his fingers. Her thighs screamed in protest. "Pessimism aside, what'd they say?"

Saniya shuddered. Getting stabbed was favorable to reliving the phone call. "It was the worst thing I've ever heard," she confessed in a low voice. "They were devastated."

She had never heard anyone cry like Marsha's mother did. Both of her parents desperately loved their daughter to the point where they'd die without her. Telling them that she was never coming home ripped their hearts from their chests, taking Marsha's with them. Saniya now knew what true sorrow sounded like.

"My parents never would have acted like that," she muttered.

"Sure they would have," Clint grunted, overhearing what was only meant for herself. "Hell, if I had a daughter who said that she was never coming home again, I'd bawl like a baby."

Saniya peered over the side of the building. She wanted to jump away the bad feelings in her chest. "They wouldn't have noticed," she said with indifference.

"Whoa," he said with such a strange tone that she turned to look at him. "Don't start throwing this heavy stuff at me during morning yoga. This is the time to free your soul, not to be sad." Clint lifted one leg off the edge of the building and brought his hands over his heart, channeling the yogi within him.

She blinked. It wasn't that heavy emotionally to her. It just... was. For the first time in her life, it struck her that her parents attitude towards her was not typical. Sure, she had always known they were colder than other parents, but it didn't register till now.

They were neglectful. That was undeniable, but not in the way that got people sent to prison. No, they fed, clothed, and took care of her perfectly fine on a physiological level. They weren't abusive either. Not once was she hit or even spanked. They just lacked in the emotional and social needs aspect of life. So much to the point that the school counselors forced her to have sessions with them every Thursday until high school.

She suddenly wanted parents like Marsha. She wanted parents that cared if she disappeared for five years. She wanted parents that wouldn't force her into a marriage she didn't want anymore. She wanted parents that cared.

Saniya threw herself off the edge of the building before she could overwhelm herself. Clint yelled in surprise but was —in general— calm. She watched the line almost become taut and reversed everything. The jump was cut short, but it did its magic. Her frustrations were coated with a wave of numbness.

Her feet landed back on the roof. Clint was none the wiser of her fall and led her through another set of poses. With adrenaline pumping through her veins, her balance was better than before. The door opened and Natasha walked through carrying a yoga mat. She eyed their position inches away from the edge of the skyscraper with a raised brow.

"What?" Clint protested. "We have harnesses on. Plus, she can look out at all of New York and be observant."

Saniya dropped her arms. "Is that what I'm supposed to be doing? Being observant?"

He ignored her. "So, Tasha, what brings you up here? Finally decided on helping me train Saniya?"

Natasha rolled out her mat. "No. Just here to do yoga and to lay out some ground rules for Europe." Her eyes flickered between the two. She took in their faces. "You didn't talk about it with her," she stated.

Clint crossed his arms. "I was getting to it." He turned his back on the assassin. "How do you feel about Italy?"

Saniya pursed her lips. "Like as a country or...?"

"In general."

"Good... I guess?"

He clapped his hands. "Great. So, I assume you'll be really happy to know that you will have the privilege of a free trip to Italy with me and Nat. Better start packing your bags because we are leaving in a day."

"No."

Natasha stifled a laugh. Clint lifted his middle finger at her behind his back. "What?"

Saniya sat down on the edge, dangling her feet alongside the high-rise. "I don't want to go on a trip with you two," she told him.

"How can you say no to a free trip to Italy?" he sputtered.

Natasha tucked her legs underneath her. There was a curious tilt to her head. "You lived on the streets five years ago and worked every day since then, so you have to know the value of these sort of opportunities. We're offering a chance to travel across the world for free."

Saniya frowned. "I've always been fine staying in one spot. Traveling has never appealed to me," she explained with a sharp undertone.

Clint looked like he was about to beg for his life. "We can even go see all the touristy things if you want," he said. Natasha glared, not liking that suggestion one bit. "Come with us."

She clenched her fist. "No."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I am ordering you to come with."

Saniya crossed her arms, swinging her legs violently. "I said no! How many times do I have to say it before you understand?" Her nails dug into the edge of the exposed balcony. "Why do you want me to come so badly?"

Clint and Natasha met eyes. She leaned back on her mat and smirked, gesturing him to go on. She'd be no help. He sighed. "Because," he started slowly, "it'd be a great training experience for you. Not many people get to have ride-alongs with us."

There had to be something else other than this, but Saniya had no clue what. Strangers don't work this hard to get other strangers on a trip with them without some sort of deeper motive. That was what her common sense was telling her and she was going to follow. Plus, Clint and Natasha worked for SHIELD. They were trustworthy only to a point. Saniya wasn't sure she could trust them not to throw her body in the Mediterranean Sea when no one was looking.

Natasha rolled her back. "Barton, she's not going to leave Marsha alone." Her beady eyes pierced through Saniya's skull. "That's the most likely reason she's staying behind."

She fought back an aggravated scream at herself. She was supposed to be the good older sister and think about Marsha first, but she hadn't even crossed her mind. All Saniya had been thinking about was herself being murdered or locked in an Italian prison. But now that Natasha mentioned it, leaving Marsha here was not an option. In a way, the assassin made it more difficult for Clint to convince her to leave.

She couldn't protect Marsha if she was all the way in Italy.

"You can bring her with," Clint compromised. He opened his palms. "I'm going to be honest with you, Fury is going to throw you in some hot water right away. He'll want to use your abilities immediately and I'd feel better about that if you're prepared."

"I don't see how a vacation to Italy will make me more prepared," she said.

"It's a mission," he told her. "Nat and I are tracking someone." Clint noticed her hesitation. "Just give me an answer by tonight."

Saniya looked down at the city underneath them. "I'm guessing the only answer I can give is 'yes'," she grumbled under her breath. If the two agents heard her, they gave no sign.

An hour of lessons and sore shoulders later, Clint led her to a table of weapons ranging from pocket knives to machine guns. Natasha, for the first time since training started, sat on a chair, watching with an impassive expression. Saniya felt like she was being judged of whether she was worthy or not.

He gestured towards a black floor with slots in the floor. "Part of your job is going to be to defend yourself. No need to be showy like Nat and break their necks with your thighs. Just be efficient." Clint tapped the table. "These are your weapons to choose from. Take your pick and we'll start."

Her eyes gravitated towards the grappling hook that sat out of place from the rest of the weapons. "You're not going to give me any hints on what I should pick?"

He crossed his arms. "Think of this as a pre-test. Figure out the problem areas before we start teaching you how to fight." Clint pointed towards the area. "This is more about reaction time than skill, so don't worry too much."

She didn't like the sound of fighting. That most likely meant she was going to get hurt. Saniya twisted her upper body, pretending to wince. "Ah, but what about my ribs? I'm not sure I should be doing this," she whined.

Clint smirked. "Then take it easy out there, kid. Like I said, no need to get fancy."

Saniya examined her options. She was at a complete loss of what Clint and Natasha wanted her to choose. This had to be some sort of trick where if she chooses the wrong weapon, she loses.

The key was to choose practicality. He made a point of not getting fancy. Plus, it'd weigh her down to lug a machine gun around with her when she could carry five knives in its place. Saniya picked up the gun Clint had showed her the basics of then set it back down. She took one look at Natasha's smug face and knew that she knew.

Screw not getting too fancy. She was going to use the fucking grappling hook if it killed her. The temptation was too strong.

She weighed it in her hands. It was heavier than the gun she trained with and didn't fit in her palm so nicely, but it satisfied her curiosity. All the coolest spies used grappling hooks.

Clint let out a dry laugh. "God lord, this is going to be a disaster." He slapped her on the shoulder. "Go get 'em, tiger."

Saniya walked on the black pad. She tensed, waiting for an explosion or something. Neither of them did a great job of explaining what was going to happen. In fact, Natasha looked like she was getting a kick out of the whole situation.

Natasha tapped on a screen, one eyebrow raised at the sight before her. Saniya looked ridiculous standing there with only a grappling hook in her hands. "It's on the easiest setting it can go to. Ready yourself."

The floor began to hum with the sound of turning gears. Saniya, out of curiosity and stupidity, looked down one of the slots in the holes. A large shape of a human launched from the floor just inches away from her face. She fell to the ground with a gasp.

After a second, it disappeared into the floor. Two feet to her right, another cutout sprang at her.

"Get up!" Clint yelled over the sounds. "Do something other than waiting for one to jump out from under you."

She got to her feet, leaping out of the way as the slot she was laying on was invaded by a figure. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the beginning of another figure coming out of the floor. Maybe it was a natural reaction to her environment or she was as uncontrolled as Marsha, but time slowed down to a crawl without any thought.

Her mind worked faster than her body, allowing her to calibrate exactly how fast she needed to turn in order to get the grappling hook level with its head. It felt like she was wading in syrup while she fought to get her arms in position. The figure locked into the full upright position with a click. Ever so slowly, she squeezed the trigger.

Time sped up again, and she missed entirely.

As a reflex, she pulled the trigger again and the hook came speeding back, shattering through the behind of the wooden man. The hook locked back into place. Saniya let out a surprised laugh that was cut short as her legs were swept out from under her.

She landed hard on her back and wheezed. Hulk's fingers were once again around her ribs, squeezing the life out of her.

"Krishna? You alright?"

The sound of gears slowed down. Saniya moved to her hands and knees, trying to gain back the breath she lost. Each inhale stretched her body until a sharp pain punctured her side.

Natasha leaned down in front of her. "You should have kept moving," she chided. She took in Saniya's winded appearance. "Jarvis, call Dr. Banner to the gym. He may need to look at her ribs again."

"As you wish, Agent Romanoff."

Clint kicked at a splintered piece of wood. "Nice job with the grappling hook. That worked a lot better than I thought it would."

She gave him a weak thumbs-up.

"Hey, you aren't going to tell Musa about this, will you?"

Black Widow's eye roll was so large that the earth shifted on its axis. "Clint, is this really that time to worry about Agent Musa?"

He dropped down to her height, and lightly patted Saniya on the shoulder as if to say 'at least you tried'. "I'm just asking," he defended. "Nothing seems broken, right? I'll be turned into a dried piece of leather if you broke something."

She sat up on her legs, her breath coming back to her. "I think I'm... internally bleeding," she concluded dramatically. "All of my organs... are pure liquid."

The elevator dimmed open and trusty Bruce walked out with a sense of urgency. But when he saw Saniya sitting up and not bleeding with her head cracked open like he imagined, he slowed down.

Saniya sucked in a short breath. "Why is it that I'm always out of breath when I see you?"

Bruce kneeled down, wiping some slivers of wood away. "I'm sure it's not from my good looks," he joked.

She laughed then winced when her ribs tugged. "Tony's changing you. That's a joke he would make."

He ducked his head. "I sincerely hope that isn't the case." His eyebrows drew together. "You will have to lift your shirt for me to look at your ribs."

The shirt came right off, leaving her only in her sports bra. Clint's eyebrows lifted towards the ceiling. Any higher and they would fly off his forehead.

"That is one nasty bruise. That looks almost as bad as when I was ran over by a forklift! What—" He caught himself before he could finish, but the damage was done. Bruce closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. "I mean... that doesn't look as bad as I thought it would, ah..." He gestured towards the elevator. "We can cut training short today. I'll just go."

The archer was caught between a walk and a run as he bee-lined to the elevator. Natasha silently followed as her business with Saniya was over. Saniya placed a hand on Bruce's cheek. "Hey, it looks worse than it feels," she said in an attempt to stop the harm Clint caused. In truth, her whole torso was a wildfire.

Bruce cleared his throat, his eyes focusing only on her bruises. "As far as I can see, there isn't any new bruising. Does it hurt to breathe?"

Saniya sucked in an experimental inhale. Her facial expression gave everything away. The scientist rubbed his hands on his pants. "I'll tell Tony to clear out the med bay to schedule you an x-ray."

She steadied herself with two hands on the floor. "I'm sure it's fine," she protested.

He raised an eyebrow. "You do not look fine."

"That's because I was just knocked on my ass a couple of minutes ago," she retorted. "If in two hours it still hurts, I'll have an x-ray."

Bruce shook his head. "As your doctor, I recommend an x-ray right away," he said with a stern voice, which was meant to scare her into following his request. Unfortunately for him, Saniya was a stubborn person.

She shrugged, face scrunching as her ribcage was jolted. "And I'm saying wait." Saniya lifted her hands up in the same way a child would if they wanted to be held. "Help me up?" she asked with a smile.

The doctor stared at her for several seconds then shook his head again. Despite his disapproval of unnecessarily waiting for an x-ray that he was determined to make her have, he helped her back on her feet. His fingers lingered on her arm as she walked forward, He quickly dropped them to his sides.

"No more of... whatever you were doing, okay? You need to let yourself heal."

She scoffed. "You'll have to talk to Natasha and Clint about that. It wasn't my choice." A sudden thought passed her mind that made her frown. It had been on her mind for a while and now was the best time to bring it up. "Speaking of things that aren't choices, there's been something I've been confused about." She met his eyes. "To be honest, you're the only person I trust to give me the whole answer."

Bruce glanced up to the ceiling. They both knew he wouldn't be the only one to hear her question. His eyes returned to her face. "I'll try to give you the best answer I can, but I'm not exactly the Avenger that people tell everything to. You'd have better luck asking Nat or Tony."

She rolled her eyes. "No, I won't. They'll give me some stupid ambiguous answer." Saniya took a small step forward, ignoring the jab in her side. "I'm like Loki, right?"

His eyes widened. "You're not—"

Saniya waved her hand. "Okay, so I'm not a Norse god who wants to rule the world, but I have those same... signature things as him."

He nodded slowly. "Yes, but I thought you already knew that."

"I do, and SHIELD knows too. They have known longer than me." Her lips twisted to a scowl. "Why would they try so hard to get me, someone who they think has a connection to that lunatic, to work for them? Why am I even still alive?"

Bruce shifted uncomfortably under her gaze but didn't speak. She clenched her fists. "I have a right to know," she reminded him.

He gave her a rueful smile. "I don't know for sure, but I do have some ideas. You're not going to like them."

Deja vu. And when Bruce said she wasn't going to like it, it meant she really wasn't going to like it.

Saniya steeled herself in anticipation. "Okay, lay it on me." His lips curled into amused disbelief. She lightly kicked his ankle in retaliation. "I promise I won't react like the last time you said something I didn't like."

He smothered the smile. "Tony has been looking at some SHIELD files." There was the implied 'illegally looking' in there that neither bothered to address. "He..." Bruce glanced at the ceiling. "He has been reading some of Nat's reports and has talked about them nonstop."

"From what I have heard from him, SHIELD thinks that as long as you have a strong bond to the Avengers, you won't go rogue. No matter what connection you have to Loki."

Saniya scrunched her nose. "What? I don't have a bond to the Avengers."

He furrowed his brows. "You are pretty close friends with Thor and we're friends." He stuttered over the last word, but the message was still the same. "Marsha also seems to be becoming friends with Steve and Clint." Bruce clasped his hands. "Nat is also contemplating getting close to you and Marsha. She's said so in her reports."

She gulped, taking in his words. "Oh, crap. The Italy trip is some sort of friendship bonding ritual," she said, horrified. She wouldn't put it past them to corner her someplace and force them to bond. The whole mission was a trick.

Saniya forced herself not to freak out. There was the small chance they were telling the truth. But the more she thought about it, the more irrational she became. Thousands of scenarios of 'friendship' with a gun held to her head popped up at a frightening speed. She was thankful for Bruce interrupting her thoughts with his soothing voice.

"Italy trip?"

She dug her shoe into the floor, squishing her toes. "They're apparently tracking someone and making me come with." Saniya considered telling Bruce her thoughts. It was bound to get back to Nat and Clint (at least Tony would hear about it through Jarvis), but she needed some peace of mind. "Do you think it's a trick to make me some sort of SHIELD minion?"

Bruce took in her expression with a creased forehead. "Honestly?"

"Yes. Don't do the thing where you lie to make me feel better," she begged.

"I don't think it is a trick," Bruce said after several moments. "They are most likely actually tracking someone. That sounds like something SHIELD would have them do."

She released a sigh of relief. Bruce doesn't lie. She could trust his word, no matter how much she wanted to argue with him. All Natasha and Clint were doing was tracking someone, not trying to force an unwanted friendship.

A sly grin grew on her face. "You don't happen to want to come to Italy with us, do you? I mean, if they succeed in forcing me to come." She bumped him with her hip. "It'd be more fun with you."

He bent his head, leaning around her to press the elevator button. "No, that wouldn't be a good idea."

Her shoulders sagged. "I think it would be," she confessed as she stood by his side. "You're nice to be with."

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. "I'm sure you wouldn't say that if the Other Guy was here. He's considerably less fun."

She shook her head. "I think he'd be a lot of fun to be with too." Saniya peered at him as his eyes were glued on the closed elevator doors. "As long as he doesn't have a temper tantrum."

Bruce tightened his lips but didn't say anything more.

—Somewhere in the Austrian Countryside—

Her hands tightened across the steering wheel until they turned white. Specks of blood were still caught underneath her nails and stained the sleeves of her shirt no matter how many times she washed them. The locks of her hair, which were once a silky black, were tangled into what could be called a 'rat's nest'. All of her clothes, bundled in a suitcase in the back seat, were stained and wrinkled. The blood and mess followed her everywhere.

Despite her disheveled appearance, the car was as clean as the day she laid eyes on it. There was not a single tear in the leather nor rust on the metal. It used to be her lover's and now it was hers. She would take care of it as he had taken care of her.

Over the low hums of a violin coming through the car radio, there was a loud banging from the back of the car —specifically the trunk. Each bang was followed by a hoarse yell.

She growled, one hand reaching for the glock in the passenger seat. The man was giving her a headache and she was not in the patient mood.

She brought the car to a stop. The sounds were more frantic now. A smirk grew on her face. He saw what she did. He knew what she was capable of. Of course he would be scared.

Just as she opened the door, she caught her eyes in the rearview mirror. They were pitch black. Her stomach rolled at the sight.

Christopher hated it when she was this way. He always said the black in her eyes meant the darkness was coming out. And when she was like this, all she could think about was...

She blinked. There were no thoughts, she concluded, her eyes slowly fading back to brown. There were no thoughts, just actions. Mindless actions that always ended with someone begging for their life.

"Doll, just breathe," came Christopher's voice from the passenger seat.

Her head rested on the steering wheel, eyes closed and gun resting on her lap. He sounded so close, like she could reach her hand out and touch him. "Where are you?" she croaked. "I can't stop myself when you leave me alone for too long."

"Doll, just breathe."

"Come back." She dug her nails into the leather of the seat.

"Doll, just breathe."

"WHY CAN YOU ONLY SAY THAT?" she screeched.

The woman lifted her head and glared at the empty passenger seat. Christopher used to sit there, but he hadn't for many months. She forgot the last time she had seen him, but could easily recall the last time she heard his voice. The crunch of metal and neverending silence from the other end of the phone still followed her in her nightmares.

She threw open the door. His thumps on the trunk turned into sobs. Each word was in unintelligible German. She didn't speak his language, but she found pleas for mercy to be universal around the world.

He was scared of her. He should be.

The safety was off the gun. He should also be quiet.

She stomped to the back of the car and unlocked the trunk with her keys. At the first sight of fresh air, the man lunged out of the back. Her gun was quicker. No longer was the man sobbing for her to release him.

She closed the trunk, wiping the splatter of blood off her gun with her shirt. There was a long moment of confusion as she stood glancing between the blood and the car.

What was she doing? She couldn't remember. All her memories were a mess. They always have been. After all the blood she'd seen, everything was coated a slick red. It was difficult distinguishing one memory from another.

With eyes fading from the dark coal it suddenly changed to, she went back into the car. She flipped down the mirror hanging from the ceiling and tugged off a small list.

Her finger traced across two names then pressed them to her mouth. Christopher was close to them when he stopped writing to her. In his last phone call, he said he found Saniya. She tried to recall where he was, but her memory was failing her.

Underneath her seat was a stack of letters. The woman, leaving red fingerprints on each page she touched, searched until she found the right one. New York City. She needed to get there, but first she needed a passport.

Finally, she recalled who the man was. He was a forger who promised to make her one very cheap. Sometime between then and now, she decided to stuff him in the back of her car and kill him. Weird. She didn't remember why, just that she did it.

She turned the ignition and rolled the car forward with a sigh. It was important to keep moving. Her sisters were waiting.