"Do you think Clint knows?"

"Oh definitely," Natasha laughed, leaning her arms against the railing as they both overlooked the New York skyline. She let her eyes flicker down, the figures of people bustling through the streets of Manhattan so miniature from up here that they almost seemed like ants. "He knows me better than I know myself, I think."

Avery grinned, the pink and orange sunset glinting off her skin as she spun around so that her back was now resting on the railing instead of her arms. 

"Tony probably knows," Avery admitted, rolling her eyes. "There's no way he hasn't caught something on a camera or two."

"You know, I'm not so sure," Natasha replied, mirroring her actions and leaning against the railing. She tilted her head to the side, looking at Avery through her eyelashes with a gentle smile on her lops. "I think he would have said something with that fucking big mouth of his by now."

Avery laughed, the sound warm and melodic, and Natasha felt her heart skip a beat. She committed the moment to memory: the way Avery's eyes crinkled at the corners, the slight tilt of her head as she threw it back in mirth, the way her braids swayed with the movement.

"You're probably right," Avery conceded, her laughter subsiding into a soft chuckle.

A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the distant hum of traffic far below and the occasional cry of a seagull. Natasha found herself studying Avery's profile, tracing the curve of her jaw, the slope of her nose, the fullness of her lips. She felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her, to confirm that this wasn't just another dream.

As if sensing her thoughts, Avery turned to face her, hazel eyes meeting green. The intensity in her gaze made Natasha's breath catch in her throat.

"Nat," Avery said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "What are you doing?"

Natasha swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry.

"I don't know," she admitted, her voice equally quiet. "But I know I don't want it to stop."

Avery's hand found hers on the railing, their fingers intertwining. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through Natasha's body, igniting every nerve ending.

"Me neither," Avery murmured, leaning in closer. Her lips hovered just over Natasha's, the redhead leaning in and waiting for her to press them together. "But you need to wake up now."

"Ave..."

"Wake up, Natasha."

Natasha's eyes flew open, her heart pounding in her chest. The warmth of Avery's touch lingered on her skin, a cruel reminder of what she'd lost. She blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the darkness of her bedroom. The digital clock on her nightstand glowed an eerie blue, its numbers a stark reminder that reality was far less kind than her dreams.

3:47 AM.

She sat up, running a hand through her tangled red hair. The sheets were damp with sweat, clinging to her body like a second skin. The room felt suffocating, the silence deafening in comparison to the vivid sounds of her dream.

Natasha swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the cold hardwood floor. The chill sent a shiver up her spine, grounding her in the present. She padded over to the window, drawing back the heavy curtains and staring out at the darkness of the Avengers compound. 

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, closing her eyes. For a moment, she could almost pretend that Avery was still there, standing beside her, their shoulders brushing as they gazed out at the city together. But when she opened her eyes, she was alone and far away from the Manhattan skyscraper. 

The ache in her chest intensified, a hollow pain that threatened to consume her. Natasha's fingers curled against the window frame, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip. She wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all.

She turned away from the window, her gaze falling on a framed photo on her dresser. It was a candid shot of her and Avery, taken during a rare moment of downtime between missions. Avery's arm was slung around Natasha's shoulders, both of them laughing at some long-forgotten joke. The sight of it made Natasha's throat tighten.

She made her way to the bathroom, flicking on the light and wincing at its harsh glare. The woman staring back at her in the mirror was a stranger – eyes red-rimmed and haunted, skin pale and drawn. Natasha gripped the edges of the sink, her knuckles turning white as she fought to steady her breathing.

"She's gone," Natasha whispered to her reflection, her voice cracking. "She's gone, and she's not coming back."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. Natasha's legs gave out, and she slid to the floor, her back against the cool tile of the wall. She drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as if trying to hold herself together.

Always alone.

____

The team sat around the living room in the compound as Steve addressed them all. It was clear that the strange encounter at the Hydra base the day before had thrown them all off, especially as it was apparent now that they had walked into a trap.

"I don't get it," Sam admitted, his eyebrows furrowed as he leaned forward on the sofa. "They lured you in... for what? They wiped the data, the supposed super soldier let you go without killing anyone, then exploded the base and you made it out alive. I just don't see what their purpose here was."

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration evident in his tense posture.

"I don't know, Sam. That's what's bothering me. It feels like we're missing something crucial."

Natasha leaned against the wall, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her mind kept drifting back to the mysterious attacker, their fluid movements hauntingly familiar. She shook her head slightly, trying to focus on the conversation at hand.

"It doesn't add up," Clint agreed, twirling his fork in his hands as he shoved his dinner away from him. "They had us right where they wanted us, but they let us go. Why?" 

Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Natasha looked over at him, her eyes narrowed slightly.

"There was something about that soldier," he said, his voice low. "The way they moved, it was... I don't know. It felt like I should know them. But I can't place it. I thought maybe it was from my time with HYDRA, but..."

"But what?" Steve prompted, leaning forward.

He shrugged, looking troubled. "I can't explain it. Maybe I encountered them during my time there, I don't know. It's all still fuzzy."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Natasha felt a chill run down her spine, a nagging feeling she couldn't quite place taking root in her mind.

"Whatever their plan is," Isaac interjected, breaking the tension, "we need to figure it out fast. HYDRA doesn't do anything without a reason."

Clint nodded, his eyes darting to Natasha. She could feel his concern from across the room. He had been able to tell from the second he saw her that morning that something was wrong with her. He was well aware that this time of year was going to be hard for her, but there was something just more... off with her than usual. 

Tony, who had been uncharacteristically silent, finally spoke up. 

"FRIDAY, run a facial recognition scan on all known current Hydra operatives and cross-reference with the recovered Winter Soldier mission logs from the past four years."

"Right away, boss," the AI responded, Bucky gritting his teeth a little but refraining from saying anything else.

As FRIDAY began her search, Natasha found her mind wandering back to her dream. The memory of Avery's touch, her laugh, her smile – it all felt so real, so visceral. The contrast between that warmth and the cold reality of their current situation made her chest ache.

"Nat?" Wanda's gentle voice cut through her reverie, the girl having moved to stand beside her and lower her voice to not draw attention to the red head. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just thinking about our next move."

Wanda didn't look entirely convinced, but she let it go.

"Alright, team. Until we have more information, we need to stay alert. This could be the beginning of something bigger," Steve ordered, crossing his arms as he looked at them all. "Tony, I want you, Isaac and Bruce, once he's back, to analyse every piece of data we managed to salvage from that base. Bucky, I need you to write down everything you can remember about that soldier – every detail, no matter how small. The rest of us will be on standby."

As the team began to disperse, Natasha felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to find Clint looking at her with knowing eyes.

She simply shrugged him off, walking away without saying another word.

____

Isaac held back a groan as he craned his neck, pushing his chair back from the table slightly as he rubbed at his eyes and stretched out his shoulders. 

His eyes burned from staring at screens for hours. The data they'd managed to salvage from the Hydra base was fragmented and heavily encrypted. Even with Tony's advanced decryption algorithms, progress was agonisingly slow.

He glanced at the clock - 7:33 PM. The lab was eerily quiet, save for the soft hum of computers and the occasional beep from one of Tony's machines. Tony had stepped out to collect another take-out for them, having asked Pepper to drop it off as he was going to be working late at the Compound for a change.

Isaac's gaze drifted back to the framed photo on his desk of him and Avery on her graduation day, both beaming at the camera. His sister's eyes sparkled with pride and excitement for the future. A future that had been brutally stolen from her.

Guilt twisted in Isaac's gut. If only he hadn't been so naive, so easily manipulated by Hydra. If only he'd seen through their lies sooner. Maybe then Avery would still be here, safe and whole.

He shook his head, trying to banish the dark thoughts.

Isaac turned back to his computer, determination renewed. As he scrolled through another batch of data, something caught his eye. A series of numbers and letters that seemed vaguely familiar.

He leaned in closer, brow furrowed in concentration. Where had he seen this before? Suddenly, it clicked. His heart began to race as he pulled up another file, comparing the two side by side.

"Hey, so Pepper accidentally picked up tofu instead of  chicken and I'm not eating that vegan crap, so it's yours now."

"Tony, shut up."

"Listen here -"

"Tony, you need to see this. Now."

Tony's eyebrows shot up at Isaac's urgent tone. He set the takeout containers on a nearby desk and hurried over, leaning in to examine the screen.

"What am I looking at?" Tony asked, his eyes scanning the lines of code.

Isaac pointed to the screen, his finger trembling slightly. 

"Look at this sequence here. It's a mission identifier code."

Tony leaned in, his eyes scanning the data. "Okay, and?"

"This pattern here - it's almost identical to the encryption used in some of the Winter Soldier files we decrypted last year. But there's something... different about it."

Tony's eyes narrowed as he studied the code. "You're right. It's similar, but more complex. Like they've evolved their encryption methods."

"Exactly," Isaac nodded, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he pulled up more data. "And look at this - these mission logs. They're recent, within the last two years."

Tony leaned in closer, his expression growing more serious with each passing second.

"Subject 0-7-3-K... nicknamed the Osprey. Multiple high-level assassinations, covert ops... Jesus, this reads like the Winter Soldier program all over again."

"But why would Hydra leave this for us to find?"

"Maybe they didn't mean for us to," Isaac suggested, his mind racing. "Maybe this was buried so deep they thought we'd never crack it." 

They worked in tense silence for the next hour, sifting through the data with renewed urgency. The rest of the team were upstairs, completely unaware of the hole that Tony and Isaac had thrown themselves into - not until they had more data to tell the others. As they decoded more information, a chilling picture began to emerge.

"Winters," Tony said, his voice uncharacteristically barely above a whisper. "Look at this."

He pulled up a series of mission reports, each more disturbing than the last. The Osprey's kill count was staggering, their methods ruthlessly efficient.

"This is... this is beyond anything we've seen before. Even the Winter Soldier program wasn't this extensive."

Isaac scrolled through the data, his heart pounding before it stopped, like ice had been poured over him. Tony stilled too, the man blinking as he read the words on the screen in front of him.

CLASSIFIED FILE: Marten / Avery Winters

Tony leaned in, his eyes widening as he saw the file name. For a brief, shining moment, hope blossomed in both their chests. Could it be? After all this time, could they finally have answers about Avery's fate?

"Tony... I don't know if I can..." Isaac's voice trailed off, his hand trembling over the mouse.

"I got you, man," Tony said softly, his voice steady but his face as white as a sheet. Slowly, he double-clicked on the folder.

The screen flickered, and then the contents appeared before them. As they read, the hope that had briefly ignited within them was cruelly extinguished, replaced by a cold, creeping horror.

The report was clinical, detached. It detailed a mission carried out by the Osprey two years prior. The target: Avery Winters, also known as Marten. The objective: elimination.

Mission status: Target terminated.

Tony's hand gripped Isaac's shoulder, whether to steady himself or offer comfort, neither was sure. The silence in the lab was deafening, broken only by the soft hum of computers that seemed obscenely mundane in the face of such devastating news.

They had assumed she was dead, but they'd never had that confirmation. There had always been that small bit of hope in the back of their heads, that one day she'd stroll through those doors and say it was all a big misunderstanding. 

But Avery was gone - truly gone - and there was nothing they could do about it now.

Tony's grip on his shoulder tightened. "Isaac, I-"

"No!" Isaac shouted, shoving away from the desk. The chair clattered to the floor as he stumbled backwards. "She can't be... she can't..."

His legs gave out, and he sank to his knees, his entire body shaking. Tony knelt beside him, his own face ashen.

"I'm so sorry," Tony murmured, his usual bravado stripped away. "I know how much you hoped..."

Isaac's anguished scream echoed through the lab, raw and primal, and echoed through the left wing of the building. He curled in on himself, rocking back and forth as sobs wracked his body. Tony remained by his side, a steady presence in the storm of grief.

The agonized scream reverberated through the compound, sending chills down the spines of those gathered upstairs. Steve was the first to react, leaping to his feet and sprinting towards the stairwell, the others close on his heels.

They burst into the lab, the scene before them a tableau of devastation. Isaac was on his knees, his body wracked with sobs, while Tony knelt beside him, his face a mask of shock and grief. The air in the room felt thick, heavy with an unspoken tragedy.

"What happened?" Steve demanded, his eyes darting between Tony and Isaac.

Tony looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and haunted. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he gestured weakly towards the computer screen.

Clint stepped forward, his keen eyes scanning the data displayed. As understanding dawned, the color drained from his face.

Natasha pushed past him, her heart pounding in her ears. She read the report once, twice, three times, willing the words to change, to mean something else. But they remained stubbornly, cruelly the same.

Mission status: Target terminated.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the ground beneath her feet suddenly unstable. Natasha stumbled backwards, her back hitting the wall as she struggled to breathe. The room around her blurred, voices becoming distant and muffled as if she were underwater.

"Nat?" Clint's voice cut through the haze, concern etched on his face. He reached out to her, but she flinched away from his touch.

Without a word, Natasha turned and fled the lab, her footsteps echoing in the hallway as she ran. She had no destination in mind, no plan beyond escaping the suffocating reality that threatened to crush her.

Clint hesitated for only a moment before following her, his own grief momentarily pushed aside in his concern for his friend.

Back in the lab, the remaining team members stood in stunned silence. Wanda's eyes were wide with horror, her hands trembling as she sensed the waves of anguish emanating from Isaac and Tony. Sam placed a steadying hand on Bucky's shoulder, the former Winter Soldier having gone rigid with shock.

Steve's gaze flickered between the computer screen and the door through which Natasha had disappeared. As the full weight of the situation settled upon him, he felt a deep, aching sorrow take root in his chest.

He turned to Wanda, their eyes meeting in a moment of shared realization. The intensity of Natasha's reaction, her desperate flight from the room – it all suddenly made sense. The lingering glances, the inside jokes, the way Natasha had seemed to come alive in Avery's presence...

"They were..." Wanda began, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Steve breathed, almost like pieces had clicked together like a puzzle in his head. "They were."

Mission status: Target terminated.

____

A week had passed.

Natasha knew something was up when she found Peter Parker sitting in the kitchen with Wanda, excitedly talking to the girl about a bank robbery he had stopped after his classes had finished the week prior. 

She liked Peter to an extent - he spoke way too much, but he reminded her of Yelena. Yelena wasn't around too much since she had taken up the past-time of finding and helping Widows break free of their brainwashing, but Peter and Yelena would get along like a house on fire when they did hang out.

It wasn't his talking that made her realise something was an amuck - it was his entire presence. She looked down at her watch, confirming her first point of suspicion. It was a Tuesday. And every Tuesday for the past three years, without fail, Tony and Peter would have one-on-one training sessions.

So... if Peter was here, dressed in normal clothes and not a spider-man costume in sight... where was Tony?

Natasha's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the kitchen. Something was definitely off. She casually leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms.

"Hey Parker, shouldn't you be with Tony right now?" she asked, keeping her tone light.

Peter's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of panic crossing his face before he schooled his expression. "Oh, uh, Mr. Stark had to cancel today. Something came up, I guess."

Natasha didn't miss the quick glance Peter shot at Wanda, or the way Wanda's smile seemed a bit too forced. Her instincts, honed by years of espionage, were screaming that there was more to this story.

"That's odd," Natasha mused, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering into the kitchen. "Tony never cancels your sessions. Not even when he had that nasty flu last winter."

Peter laughed nervously, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.  Natasha caught the slight tremor in his voice, the way his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. She'd interrogated enough people to recognize the signs of someone hiding something.

"Yeah, well, you know Mr. Stark. Always busy with... stuff."

Natasha hummed noncommittally, opening the fridge and pretending to browse its contents. She could feel the tension in the room ratcheting up with each passing second.

"So, what kind of 'stuff' was so important that he had to cancel?" she asked casually, closing the fridge and turning to face them.

Wanda and Peter exchanged another quick glance. Natasha's patience was wearing thin.

"Whatever, I should go find him. We have some mission reports to go over."

As she turned to leave, Wanda spoke up, her voice tinged with barely concealed panic. "Natasha, wait-"

But Natasha was already out the door, her stride purposeful as she headed towards Tony's lab. The pieces were falling into place, and a cold dread was settling in her stomach. Tony canceling on Peter, the kid's nervous behavior, Wanda's obvious attempt at distraction...

"You're not going to find him."

Natasha stopped in the hallway, turning to look at Clint who was standing with a blank expression as she scowled at him. The way he was standing, the look on his face... he knew what was going on and he knew she wasn't going to like it.

"What do you mean, I'm not going to find him?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Clint sighed, running a hand through his hair. The lines on his face seemed deeper than usual, his eyes weary. He took a step closer to Natasha, his posture cautious as if approaching a wounded animal.

"Steve, Tony, Sam, and Bucky left early this morning," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Isaac got a lead on the Osprey's location. They're going after them."

Natasha felt as if she'd been punched in the gut. The world tilted for a moment, and she had to lean against the wall to steady herself. Her mind raced, piecing together the clues she'd missed in the past week - the whispered conversations that stopped when she entered a room, the furtive glances, the way everyone had been walking on eggshells around her.

"Why..." she started, her voice barely above a whisper. She swallowed hard, forcing strength into her words. "Why wasn't I informed? Why wasn't I included in this mission?"

Clint's expression softened, a mix of concern and sorrow etched across his features. He reached out as if to touch her shoulder, but thought better of it, letting his hand fall back to his side.

"Nat," he said softly, "you're not in the right headspace to face Avery's killer. We all agreed it was best if you sat this one out."

The words hit Natasha like a physical blow. She recoiled, her back pressing against the cool wall behind her. Her mind flashed to the countless nights she'd spent staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment with Avery, wondering what she could have done differently. 

"You don't get to make that decision for me," she hissed, anger flaring hot and bright in her chest. "I'm not some fragile doll that needs to be protected. I'm an Avenger, I'm a spy, I'm-"

"You're grieving," Clint interrupted, his voice firm but compassionate. "And grief can make us do reckless things."

Natasha's fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging crescents into her palms. The rational part of her brain knew Clint was right, but the pain and anger that had been simmering for years threatened to boil over.

"Aren't we all?"

"Nat, I know you," he said gently. "I've known you for years. I can see how much you're hurting, even if you try to hide it. Going after the Osprey now... it would be too personal. Too raw."

Natasha wanted to argue, to lash out, to prove him wrong. But the fight drained out of her as quickly as it had come. She slumped against the wall, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"They should have told me," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Clint nodded, squeezing her shoulder. "I know. But they were trying to protect you. We all are."

Natasha looked up at him, her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"I loved her."

"I know."

"She's dead."

"I know."

They stayed like that for a moment, two friends that had seen each other at the worst parts of their lives. Natasha bit back a sob, composing herself as she noticed Wanda and Peter appear at the door to the kitchen, their eyes pitying her. She hated that.

Natasha's eyes darted to Wanda and Peter, catching their sympathetic gazes. A flash of irritation cut through her grief, her jaw clenching as she straightened up.

"Stop looking at me like that," she snapped, her voice sharp enough to make Peter flinch.

A heavy silence fell over the hallway, thick with unspoken emotions. Natasha could feel their eyes on her, could sense their desire to help, to comfort. But comfort felt like a luxury she didn't deserve, not when Avery was gone.

After a moment, Wanda spoke again, her voice soft and hesitant. "Would you... would you be willing to tell us how you and Avery met instead?"

Natasha blinked, caught off guard by the request. For a moment, she was tempted to refuse, to retreat into the familiar safety of her isolation. But as she looked at Wanda's earnest face and Peter's curious eyes, something inside her softened.

She let them lead her and Clint back into the kitchen, settling into the sofas as they waited for her to begin to tell them the story of how Avery and Natasha first came across each other.

"It was... it was during a mission in Prague," she began, her voice low and measured. "Nine years ago, maybe ten. Only a few years before the Avengers were founded."

As she spoke, the memory unfurled in her mind, vivid and bittersweet. She could almost smell the crisp autumn air, feel the cobblestones beneath her feet.

"I was tailing a weapons dealer, trying to infiltrate his inner circle. Avery was there on a separate assignment - something to do with stolen tech. We didn't know about each other's missions."

A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips as she continued, "I was at this high-end charity gala, playing the part of a wealthy socialite. And then I saw her across the room."

Natasha's eyes took on a faraway look, lost in the memory. 

"She was wearing this deep blue dress that made her eyes look like storm clouds. Her hair was up, but a few strands had escaped, framing her face. She was beautiful, but that wasn't what caught my attention."

Peter leaned in, completely engrossed in the story. "What was it?"

"The way she moved," Natasha replied, her voice taking on a hint of admiration. "Most people at these events, they're trying so hard to look important, to be seen. But Avery... she glided through the crowd like she owned the place. Her and Isaac... they're two rich kids that ended up working for SHIELD after their parents died - that sort of stuff came naturally to Avery because she'd done it her whole life."

Natasha's lips quirked up in a half-smile.

"Our eyes met, and in that instant, we both knew. We were there for the same reason, working for secret agencies. It should have been a disaster, but instead..."

She trailed off, lost in the memory of hazel eyes that had sparkled with mischief and intelligence.

"Instead?" Peter prompted gently, completely enthralled by the story.

"Instead, it was like we'd known each other our whole lives," Natasha continued. "We ended up joining forces. Turned out, our targets were linked to the same information. We spent the next week working together, watching each other's backs."

Clint chucked, a warm smile on his face as he recalled hearing Natasha speak about Avery after she'd returned from being undercover. He had been on family leave (not that anyone knew), and had been worried about her being away for so long without a backup. Turns out he hadn't needed to worry.

"I came back after a trip with Laura and the kids, and thought I'd been replaced," Clint joked, a smile on his lips.

Natasha rolled her eyes at Clint, but there was a fondness in her expression. "You're irreplaceable, you idiot."

She turned back to Peter and Wanda, who were hanging on her every word. 

"After the mission, we went our separate ways. We kept running into each other on missions after that. At first, we told ourselves it was just coincidence. But eventually...

"Eventually?" Wanda prompted gently.

"Eventually, we stopped pretending," Natasha admitted. "We started finding reasons to work together, to be in the same place at the same time. It was... complicated. We both had our loyalties, our secrets. But when we were together, none of that seemed to matter."

Natasha trailed off, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she realized how much she was revealing. She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure.

"So let me get this straight," Peter said, almost bouncing in excitement abut hearing top-secret information that almost no-one else in the entire world knew. "You and Avery - the Marten - were together in secret for like ten years?"

Natasha smiled at the codename. It had been her who gave Avery that name, but that was a story Peter could have another time.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "It wasn't until things settled after the Accords that I admitted my feelings for her to myself. In that moment on the airport concourse, I knew I'd follow her anywhere. That I'd do anything to keep her safe. That's when I realised I was in love with her. We got together soon after that, but I hadn't told her the extent of my feelings."

The room fell silent as the weight of Natasha's words settled over them. Peter's eyes were wide with a mix of awe and sadness, while Wanda's expression was one of deep empathy. Clint reached out, gently squeezing Natasha's shoulder in silent support.

"Did... did you ever tell her? That you were in love with her?"

Natasha's smile faltered, a flicker of regret passing over her face. 

"No," she admitted quietly. "I always thought there'd be more time. That after the next mission, or the next threat, I'd find the right moment. And then..."

She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air: And then she was gone.

As they sat in contemplative silence, each lost in their own thoughts about love and loss, FRIDAY's voice suddenly crackled through the PA system, startling them all.

"Attention. The Quinjet is approaching the compound. Mr. Stark has requested everyone's immediate presence in the hangar. It's urgent."

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly, tension crackling like electricity. Natasha was on her feet in seconds, her earlier vulnerability replaced by the razor-sharp focus of the Black Widow. Clint mirrored her movement, years of partnership allowing them to communicate without words.

As they hurried through the compound's corridors, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the walls, Natasha's mind raced. The urgency in FRIDAY's tone, the unexpected early return of the team – something had gone wrong. 

The hangar doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss as they approached. The Quinjet appeared on the horizon outside, a dark silhouette against the star-studded sky. As it drew closer, Natasha's sharp eyes could make out scorch marks along its hull. Her heart rate quickened, adrenaline flooding her system as she braced for whatever news the returning team might bring.

The jet touched down with a gentle thud, its engines powering down as the rear ramp began to lower. Natasha's muscles coiled, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. 

As the ramp hit the ground with a metallic clang, Steve emerged first. His uniform was torn and smudged with soot, a testament to the intensity of their mission. His eyes scanned the group, locking with Natasha's for a brief moment before he stepped aside.

Tony followed, his armor retracting as he walked. His face was drawn, exhaustion etched into every line. Bucky and Isaac came next, supporting a limping Sam between them. But it was the figure that emerged last that made Natasha's breath catch in her throat.

A woman, her face obscured by long, tangled hair, stumbled down the ramp. Her movements were unsteady, almost robotic, as if she wasn't fully in control of her own body. She wore a tattered black tactical suit, eerily similar to the one worn by the Winter Soldier.

Her wrists were bound in front of her with vibranium cuffs, and she moved with the hesitant gait of someone expecting an attack at any moment.

As the woman lifted her head, pushing her hair back with her bound hands, Natasha felt the world tilt on its axis.

Hazel eyes, once warm and full of life, now cold and hard, met her gaze.

"Avery," Natasha whispered, her voice barely audible over the dying whine of the Quinjet's engines.

Natasha took an involuntary step forward, her hand reaching out as if to touch Avery, to confirm she was real and not another cruel dream. But Steve's arm shot out, blocking her path.

"Nat, wait," he said, his voice low and urgent. "There's something you need to know."

But Natasha barely heard him. Her entire world had narrowed to the woman standing before her – a woman she had mourned, a woman she had loved, a woman she had thought lost forever... she was alive.

Natasha brushed past Steve's outstretched arm, her heart pounding in her ears as she approached Avery. The world around her seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in this moment. She reached out, her fingers trembling as they neared Avery's face.

For a split second, Natasha thought she saw a flicker of recognition in those hazel eyes. But as Natasha drew near, something shifted in Avery's posture. Her muscles tensed, her eyes narrowing with a predatory focus. In a blur of motion too fast for the others to follow, Avery's bound hands shot up, the edge of the vibranium cuffs aimed directly at Natasha's throat.

Natasha's training kicked in, muscle memory taking over as she barely managed to dodge the potentially lethal strike. She stumbled backwards, shock and confusion warring on her face as she stared at Avery.

The woman before her stood poised for another attack, her body coiled like a spring. There was no warmth in her eyes, no flicker of recognition - only cold, calculating assessment, as if Natasha were nothing more than a target to be eliminated.

Steve's jaw clenched, the muscles in his face tightening as he struggled to find the right words. When he spoke, his voice was low and heavy with regret.

"Nat," he said softly, "Avery is the Osprey. She's been Hydra's weapon all this time."

The words hit Natasha like a physical blow. She staggered back, shaking her head in disbelief. "No," she whispered. "No, that's not possible. We saw the mission report. It said she was terminated."

"It was a lie," Tony interjected, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. "A cover-up to hide what they'd really done to her."

Natasha's gaze darted between Steve, Tony, and the motionless form of Avery. Her mind raced, trying to reconcile the woman she loved with the cold-eyed assassin before her.

"She has no idea who we are."