I walked behind Natasha and Steve. They were talking to each other, but I didn't pay it any attention. Instead, I looked around as we walked. We walked through a hallway with multiple doors on each side. The hallway was wide, and at the end was an elevator. We stepped into it, and I moved to the corner, trying to make myself small and untouchable.

"Fury will be here in an hour," Natasha told Steve.

"Okay. Get y/n some clothes and food. I'll talk to him about her situation," Steve said.

Natasha turned to me.

"Natasha Romanoff," she said, holding her hand out for me to shake.

When I realised she was wearing gloves, I grabbed her hand and shook.

"Y/n l/n," I said.

Natasha smiled at me and I smiled back. Steve got off the elevator before us. Natasha led me through the tower and to a room. She opened the door and stepped inside, motioning for me to follow her.

"Stay here for a moment," she said.

Natasha walked through a door and I stood in the middle of her room awkwardly. Her bed had black bedsheets and was neatly made. Various weapons were scattered throughout the room.

After a few minutes, Natasha stepped out of what I assumed to be her wardrobe, holding a pair of black leggings, a black t-shirt, and a towel. She had also changed her outfit, now dressed in a white shirt and black jeans. She wore a black suit jacket over the top.

"Here," Natasha said. "You can borrow my clothes until we buy you some more."

She pushed the clothes into my hands before I could react. Her hand brushed against mine and light flashed.

Girls tied to their beds to keep them from escaping. A large manor. Flashes of a blonde-haired girl. Ballerinas trying their hardest.

"You'll break them."

Natasha's voice.

"Only the breakable ones."

An unknown voice.

Natasha was in front of a target. She was young, sixteen, seventeen, maybe. She shot at the target, hitting it directly in the bullseye. The target turned into a person. She held the gun up.

"No," I muttered. "No, no, no!"

Lights flashed and I was back in the present. I had instinctively curled into a ball. I looked up to see Natasha staring at me with wide eyes. She was breathing heavily.

"I'm so sorry!" I cried. "I didn't – I can't control it!"

I began to cry. Natasha wrapped the clothes around her hands and pulled me in for a hug. I cried into her as she rubbed my back. She began hushing me in Russian, which I knew a bit of. I knew some phrases and words. I heard, it's alright, and I am here.

After a while, my cries stopped.

"It's okay," Natasha said.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"If you can't control it, we'll help you," she said.

I sniffled.

"Thank you, Natasha," I said.

"You can call me Nat," she said.

I smiled at her.

"Now, you can have a shower and get changed while I order pizza," Nat said. "What do you want?"

I told her my order before being shooed into the bathroom. I had a shower, cleaning off grime and blood. My mind wandered as I showered.

If Clint falls out of the vents one more time I SWEAR TO GOD –

I snorted at that. I needed to stop letting my mind literally wander.

I finished my shower, dried off, and got dressed. When I left the bathroom, Nat was rummaging through her drawers.

"Aha!" she called triumphantly.

In her hands she held a long, thin box. She pulled off the lid and showed me a pair of black, velvet, elbow length gloves.

"Here you go," she said, holding the box out to me.

I grabbed it from her and put them on. I felt more secure with them on.

"Let's go," Natasha said.

We left her room and she led us through the hallways. We got in the elevator and Nat took me to what I assumed was the common room. Common floor was a more accurate description. There were things scattered around the place that suggested they all hung out here. There were quite a few knives, guns, and arrows. There were tools on the table, a notebook and pencils, and a microscope.

Natasha led me through the living room area and to a dining table. The pizza had already been brought up and was on the table. Natasha gave me a box and got her own. I took off my gloves and began to eat.

The elevator doors opened when I was on my final piece. I turned around to see Steve and another man. He was tall and scary and wore an eyepatch.

"Y/n l/n?" he asked.

I nodded slowly. Steve kept glancing between myself and the other man.

I knew who the newcomer was. I didn't need an introduction, but the newcomer gave one anyway.

"Nick Fury. We need to talk."