Chapter Three


Lilia was practically buzzing when Zoë made it home that afternoon. She had arranged for Lilia to have ballet lessons and to say the little girl was excited would be an understatement. Lilia was already dressed in her leotard and tights, a pink tutu hanging up by the door. Cooper was sitting at the kitchen counter, working through his homework.
"Ready to go, darling?" Zoë asked, scooping Lilia up into her arms.
"She's too big to be babied like that," Cooper muttered. Zoë ruffled his hair, making him jolt away with a small smile.
"Come on, Kiddo. You can pick where we have dinner."

Hailing a cab, Zoë directed the cabbie to a small dance studio near the coffee shop Steve liked. Lilia bounced in her seat, eyes beaming.
"Do you like ballet, mom—" she paused, catching Cooper's eye. She flinched, correcting her words.
"I mean, Zoë?"
"I do," Zoë said. She tried to not let Lilia's "slip-up" affect her. "I think you'll like it too."
"No! I think I'll love it!" Zoë laughed, shaking her head fondly as the cabbie pulled to a stop.
"Thanks," Zoë told him, handing him a wad of cash. She met the man's eyes momentarily and frowned when she recognized the face.
"Agent Aetós," the man said.
"Agent Mack."
"Fury wants to see you. Something about Roger's mission."
"I'll be there in the morning."
"I'll let boss man know."

Agent Mack pulled the cab away and she watched it go, seeing the fading yellow color morph back to a steel grey. Well, that technology was new.
"Zoë!" Lilia whined. "Come on, come on!" She tugged on the Agent's hand, causing the woman to laugh.
"Okay, okay, I'm coming."

The trio walked inside, Zoë mentally tallying every person in the room. There were only five, the two instructors and three students. Margaret Barlowe, the owner, stood off to the side, gently guiding a student through a maneuver. She looked over when the overhead bell rang, giving Zoë and her kids a small wave.
"I'll be right there," she called.

When the song ended, Margaret walked over, a playful grin on her face.
"Hiya," she greeted, brushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. She knelt to Lilia's height.
"I'm Margaret, but you can call me Maggie. What's your name?" Suddenly shy, Lilia ducked behind Zoë. Lightly, Zoë brushed a hand through Lilia's hair. "You got some nervous butterflies?" Maggie asked. Lilia nodded slowly as Maggie leaned back on her knees. "Well, did you know that butterflies love to dance?"
"Really?" Lilia whispered.
"Definitely."

Standing, Maggie made her way to a small purple bin, pulling out a butterfly baton. She held it out to Lilia, who took it.
"Now, you make the butterfly dance to the music and your butterflies will dance too." Maggie put on an upbeat song and within moments, Lilia was dancing with the baton along with the other students.

Finally, Maggie turned to Zoë and Cooper.
"Welcome to Barlowe Studios," she said, holding out her hand for Zoë. The two women shook, then Maggie pulled out a clipboard full of paperwork for Zoë to sign. Zoë took it as Maggie turned to Cooper. "You aren't a dancer, are you?" she asked. Cooper immediately shook his head.
"Nope. Not me."
"Right then, there's a stack of comics over there if you want to do something." Cooper hurried over to the stack. The irony was not lost on Zoe4 when he picked up a Captain American issue.

Signing her name on the last page, Zoë handed the papers back to Maggie.
"You're good with kids," she remarked.
"Thanks," Maggie smiled. "I try to be." The woman brushed a stray curl behind her ear as the other instructor walked over.
"Hi, I'm Micah," he said. "I teach hip-hop, Latin, contemporary, and modern."
"Pleasure to meet you," Zoë said. "My name is Zoë… What do you teach, Ms. Barlowe?"
"Please, call me Maggie. I teach the more "classical" dances. Ballet, tap, ballroom, swing, and jazz."
"So, you'll be Lilia's teacher?"
"Typically, yes, I'll be Lilia's teacher but sometimes Micah takes over when I'm not able."
"Good… and you are not a competition style studio?"
"Exactly. We're for new students, for those who aren't certain if they even want to dance or for the parents who want their children to do something fun without the stress of competition."

For that, Zoë was pleased. She remembered doing competitions when she was younger and when she explained some of the pros and cons, Lilia became adamant that she did not want to compete. This was just for fun, after all.

By the time the session was over, Zoë had explained that she was one of three people who would likely be bringing Lilia for her lessons and that her and Clint's work hours were so erratic that they may miss lessons every once in a while. Maggie and Micah were easily understanding, which was amazing.

Lilia rambled on and on until bed that night about her dance class, even taking time to try and call Clint. He didn't answer, like most times he was away so she left him a long voicemail. One that Zoë was sure Clint would listen to over and over again.

The next morning, Zoë found herself sitting in Fury's office. She read through a debrief as Steve stormed into the room, snapping at Fury.
"You just can't stop yourself from lying, can you?"
"I didn't lie," Fury said, "Agent Romanoff had a different mission than yours."
"Which you didn't feel obliged to share."
"I'm not obliged to do anything."
"Those hostages could've died, Nick!"
"I sent the greatest soldier in history to make sure that didn't happen."
"Soldiers trust each other, that's what makes it an army. Not a bunch of guys running around and shooting guns."
"The last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye," Fury said, standing from his desk. "Look, I didn't want you doing anything you weren't comfortable with. Agent Romanoff is comfortable with everything."
"I can't lead a mission when the people I'm leading have missions of their own."
"It's called compartmentalization. Nobody spills the secrets because nobody knows them all."
"Except you."

Fury met Steve's eyes.
"You're wrong about me. I do share. I'm nice like that." Walking around his desk, Fury headed towards the elevator, beckoning Steve along with him. He called out to Zoë."You too, Aetós."
"And here I thought I was invisible," the woman snarked.

The computer beeped as Steve and Zoë walked inside.
"Captain Rogers and Agent Aetos do not have clearance for Project Insight."
"Director override, Fury, Nicholas J."
"Confirmed." The elevator started moving down with a slight jolt. Zoë stood by Steve's side, eyeing Fury as he relaxed against the metal hand bar.
"You know, they used to play music," Steve remarked.
"Yeah," Fury nodded. "My grandfather operated one of these things for forty years. My granddad worked in a nice building, eh got good tips. He'd walk home every night, roll of ones stuffed in his lunch bag. He'd say "hi", people would say "hi" back. Time went on, neighborhood got rougher. He'd say "hi", they'd say, "keep on steppin'." Granddad got to grippin' that lunch bag a little tighter."
"Did he ever get mugged?" Zoë asked.
"Every week some punk would say, "What's in the bag?""

The story seemed to piqué Steve's interest.
"What did he do?"
"He'd show 'em. Bunch of crumpled ones and a loaded .22 Magnum." Fury smiled fondly. "Granddad loved people, but he didn't trust them very much."

From outside the glass windows in the basement, large helicarriers caught Steve and Zoë's eyes. Zoë moved closer to the window, peering out.
"Yeah, I know. They're a little bit bigger than a .22." The doors slid open, and Fury led them out. "This is project Insight. Three next generation Helicarriers synced to a network of targeting satellites."
"Launched from the Lemurian Star," Steve murmured.

That had been the ship Steve and Natasha had just been on. The mission Zoë had not been allowed to be on. She would have to speak with Fury about that eventually. She was assigned to Steve, not Natasha. She was supposed to be his partner on missions.
"Once we get them in the air, they never need to come down. Continuous suborbital flight courteous of our new repulse engines."
"Stark?" Zoë asked, looking inside one of the engines.
"Well, he had a few suggestions once he got an up-close look at our old turbines. The new long-range precision guns can eliminate a thousand hostiles a minute. The satellites can read a terrorist's DNA before he steps outside his spider hole. We're going to neutralize a lot of threats before they even happen."

Tilting his head to the side, Steve spoke.
"I thought the punishment usually came after the crime."
"We can't afford to wait that long."
"Who's "we"?" Steve asked.
"After New York, I convinced the World Security Council we needed a quantum surge in threat analysis. For once we're way ahead of the curve."
"By holding a gun at everyone on Earth and calling it protection?" Zoë said.
"You've read the SSR files, Aetos," Fury said. He nodded at Steve. "The "greatest generation". His guys did some nasty stuff."
"Yeah, we compromised," Steve snapped. "Sometimes in ways that made us not sleep so well. But we did it so the people could be free. This isn't freedom, this is fear."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. takes the world as it is, not as we'd like it to be. It's getting damn near past time for you to get with that program, Cap."
"Don't hold your breath."

As Steve marched off, Zoë frowned at Fury.
"I don't usually disagree with you, Nick. But this… I said before I'd retire before thirty and if this is the way you go, those words will come true even earlier."
"Go babysit, Aetos," Fury said. "Tell the kids I said hi… Ever gonna let me meet them?"
"In your dreams."


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