If she doesn't show, we can at least crash the fundraiser and try and have a good time.

I feel like a totally different person in this dress. The last time I wore anything like this was Prom. I miss those days. I never questioned what my parents did for a living. I never felt like I wanted to follow in their footsteps.

Prior to touching down in Italy, we made all the arrangements from hotel rooms to outfits. The ladies got one room, the men got the other.

Currently in our room, Romanoff is changing in the bathroom. Wanda and I are already dressed but standing as far away from each other as possible. I think about that small burst of pain in my head from earlier. I haven't had another episode like it since.

Wanda's dress is a flattering, deep red, with plunging neckline and a bit of fabric enough to cover her shoulders. The dress stops at knee length. Something simple, but something elegant as well. Her hair is pulled away from her face and back, allowing her features to be seen.

As for my dress...well, it's not something I'm used to wearing. It's maneuverable, as all of ours have to be in case Genevieve decides to run. That's if she's even at this event, we're just speculating off a hunch.

Instead of the neckline, my dress back is plunging thanks to the halter top. Any lower and my crack will show. There's a small space where cleavage is noticeable, but it's mostly concealed. The only downside to this dress is the length; it pools down at my feet. With heels on, it just kisses the floor. I decided to go with curling my dark blonde hair, pinning some back so my face could be more prominent.

"How will we know which one is Genevieve if she's here?" Wanda asks me. She's sitting on one of the beds, strapping on her high heels. "You said she can clone herself. What if this is a ruse and we are only chasing clones?"

"Then we hope that Gen isn't that smart to have thought about that." I take baby steps across the room. "I can't remember the last time I wore heels."

"I think you look great."

Wow. Wanda Maximoff is being civil. "Thanks. But my issue is if she's a runner."

"Then take off the heels and pursue her on foot." Wanda shrugs. "I don't hate you, I hope you know that."

I look at her strangely. "You thought to mention this because...?"

"You and I haven't been on the best of terms."

"That we can agree on."

"I've always had this thing about trust. Since you were once Hydra..."

"Reluctant Hydra," I correct her.

"I couldn't buy that until I saw it for myself. When you healed Pietro...I almost put trust in you. You almost swayed me. Depending on how this mission goes, we might just end up coming out of this as friends."

"This is a call of truce?" I ask.

"Possibly."

"I hate to interrupt the loud bonding," comes Romanoff's voice from the bathroom, "but how about you two go check on the boys next door? I won't be long."

With a nod to Wanda, she and I head one door down. We don't even knock, we make our entrance. The men are just putting on the finishing touches.

"Look at you boys," I comment. "All spiffy."

"Who even says that anymore?" Clint asks.

"Probably Cap." I smile innocently.

"Where's Nat?"

"She'll be out soon. Oh, no, no, no," I say as I finally see Pietro's hair. "Uh-uh. We're not having this surfer-dude look. This is a formal event."

"My hair is perfectly fine," Pietro tells me.

I purse my lips. "I beg to differ."

"I am not having anything put in it."

"Just let him have his way," Wanda groans. "It's the only thing the women like about him anyway."

"You are such a comedian," he deadpans.

"Fine," I cave. "But at least make it more..." I begin to mess with the stringy blond strands and organize them. "Presentable." I examine my work critically for a minute. "That'll have to work."

"Oh, good, everyone's ready," says Romanoff as she makes her entrance. She's in a sleek black number and heels that make mine seem tiny in comparison. Her hair is straightened and pulled up into an up-do.

"Everyone know the plan?" Rogers says. "If she's here, do the normal routine: blend in, keep an eye out. The minute you're absolutely sure you see Genevieve, you radio the others. If she's not here, we—"

"Stick around," I say.

"Uh, no."

"Come on, Steve," Romanoff says. "Might as well."

"We've got a job to do, Natasha."

Romanoff hands me and Wanda earpieces.

"One question," says Wanda. "How will we know which one is the real Genevieve?"

"I told you before, Wanda, that's if she thinks to do that," I remind her. "And that's if she's here."

"I don't believe she is stupid. We can't go into this thinking that she is."

"She's right," Rogers agrees. "We've got to assume that we're pursuing someone very dangerous, who, if the thought comes into her head, is capable of hurting civilians. We're making this as quick an in-and-out as possible. Try not to use your powers if it can be avoided. Everyone knows the teams?"

We all nod.

"Let's move out."

In gentlemanly fashion, the men let us ladies slip our arms through theirs. Romanoff and Rogers take lead, with myself and Pietro in the middle, and Clint and Wanda bring up the rear.

We all take separate taxis to the event. The lawn care of this place, just by looking at it, looks expensive. There's a line of guests up ahead. We sneak across the lawn, looking for a back entrance since none of us ladies want to risk climbing through a window in a dress and heels.

Romanoff picks the lock of the back door. We quickly slip into the hallway, where we can hear music, though it's faint. We act casual as we let the music guide us towards the big room where the event is really going on.

It's like we've stumbled onto a ball. The women's dresses are glittery, shimmering against the chandelier lights above us. Waiters walk around with trays of foods and champagne glasses.

"Don't even think about it," I whisper to Pietro as the others branch off into the crowd.

"What am I thinking about?"

"Zipping around to snatch food and wine. You heard Rogers, no powers if you can avoid it."

"So that means we won't see a snow storm in this place? A shame, I like snow."

I roll my eyes. "Look for Genevieve." I snap my fingers when I notice Pietro is giving some suggestive looks at nearby women. "Hey, Speedy. Focus."

"I am. I'm looking for Genevieve."

"No, you're ogling."

"Jealous, Aurora?"

"Of them getting your attention? I don't think so." I hold my head up high. "If anything, they should be jealous of me since they seem to find you so attractive."

"You don't?"

I shrug.

"That isn't an answer."

I slowly tug him along and keep hold of him. "Instead of having this debate—"

"There is no debate about it."

I roll my eyes. "Focus on the task at hand, Speedy." I try to see through the taller crowd, as Gen could easily use tall bodies to hide herself. If she's here. If not, we can have a little fun. Pietro can go flirt with all the women with their lustful eyes. I can get myself a buzz since that's way overdue.

I see someone turn away from me when my eyes land on them. She's got dark hair, and she looks about the right height. I stop. The figure has disappeared.

"Did you see her?" Pietro whispers to me.

"Maybe. I need to get a closer look." Without thinking, I grab his hand and lead him through the crowds, not-so-politely pushing my way through.

"There is a quicker way—"

"You heard what the captain said. Can't risk Genevieve catching us. There's a high chance she's a flight risk."

"You make it sound like this is Genevieve instead of a guest."

"I looked at her, and she disappeared. You don't bolt unless you're found by people you don't want to be found by."

We leave the main ballroom area, finding ourselves in a large hallway adorned with large paintings and pictures. Aside from Pietro and myself, there is someone up ahead. As she turns a corner, I pull the two of us behind a column, Pietro is closer to the actual hall.

"Do you see her?"

"I think so."

"Oh, so you believe me now, that she's really here?"

We hear the heels clacking against the floor. I push myself towards Pietro to allow myself to get a good look. Though she's a distance away, I can confirm that Genevieve is here. She looks away, and for a minute I think she's going to head that direction, but I see the shift in her feet. I pull Pietro further around the column, so now my back is still against it, but my shoulder is stuck against a wall now. I watch as he carefully peeks his head out again.

"She's coming," he says.

"She might know we're here," I muse. "And we can't go anywhere, not unless we want to be seen."

Her feet are closer now. If she turns her head and sees us, we're finished. Then I'll have to run in heels. Well, since there aren't any witnesses in the hallway, I guess Pietro will have the better shot of capturing Genevieve, provided it's actually her and not a clone she conjured.

Just when we think her feet are on top of us, Pietro is the one to improvise. He practically pushes me, uncomfortably, into the corner, so that his back is the only thing Gen will see. The space between us is also uncomfortable, my heart is running in my chest.

My hands are sprawled against the column and the wall as I close my eyes, waiting with bated breath. I feel like I need something to hold onto, something to help channel my nerves.

I nearly sell us out with a surprised yelp.

Pietro makes sure I don't make a sound again, as he's got his mouth over mine. I'm not sure what to do. I'm stuck in a panic. I can't really pull away, not unless I want a massive lump on the back of my head.

But, somehow, it calms me. Despite my racing heart, my hands peel off their perches and find new ones on his jacket. I sort of (not really) peel myself from the tight corner and feel feather-light hands on my waist. We both (unintentionally) get so wrapped up in the moment that our earpieces break it up.

"Aurora. Pietro. Do you have sights on Genevieve?" comes Natasha's voice.

"U-um." I clear my throat as I answer in a whisper: "Y-yes."

"Don't lose her, she might be the real deal. Clint and Wanda just radioed in and said they tracked a clone. She might have more running around. Stay on her."

"Roger that." I can't look at Pietro with an angry expression, more like astonishment.

"What?" he snickers. "You didn't see that coming?"

I slap him lightly across the face. This earns me a shocked look. "What? You didn't see that coming?" I mock him. "Come on." I nudge him so I can get out of the corner.

"Allow me to spare us time."

"Wait—!" But I'm talking to air at this point.

Pietro disappears in a blur, leaving me to trot after his trail. The wind from his takeoff fades fast as I manage in heels down the hall. I just barely see the swish of the end of Genevieve's dress before she disappears around the corner.

Just as I round the corner, I'm at one far end, Pietro is at another. And stuck in the middle is Genevieve. She turns to see me, then back towards Pietro. Though dolled up for the event, she hasn't altered her appearance any since fleeing capture.

"Another dynamic duo?" Gen deadpans, crossing her arms. I can't read how she feels about seeing me again, on the opposing side. I can think of a few things she might be feeling, and none of them are good.

"This doesn't have to end bad, Gen," I say as I close in on her. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not ruin our dresses."

Gen scoffs. "I was hoping to find you in better circumstances, Rory."

There's no fight, as Pietro runs to Gen and pokes her with a needle. She turns, elbowing him in the face, as she's falling to the ground, unconscious.

"We've got her," I say into the comms.

"Nice work," says Natasha. "Now, next step: getting her out of here without making it look like we've committed murder."

**I'm having an awful time with a PietroxRory ship name, for real.

Any ideas?**