2009.

Avery Winters was no stranger to fancy galas and champagne receptions.

From a very young age, she'd attended the events with her father and his colleagues with a poised smile on her face and eyes wide with amusement. Her brother and mother would mingle with other guests, opting to remain in the back while her father dominated the galas with Avery on his arm.

Isaac had taken after his mother and was more reserved, while his younger sister had always been the charismatic Winters off-spring. She was saying her first word by eight months old and their parents often joked that she learned how to speak and never stopped. She was charming, some might even say dazzling, and knew how to work a crowd to get what she wanted.

The ultimate spoilt rich kid.

Or at least, that's how she was fronted by her parents. Lindsay and Roman Winters, the high-class socialite couple from wealthy parents that had married into each other's old money estates. There was little of interest to know about the couple - they often attended these events, would donate large sums of money to charity and other beneficiaries, and had never worked a day in their lives. Wealthy, harmless and lacking any power outside of their charitable donations.

Very little knew the real Lindsay and Roman Winters.

Lindsay's father, Samuel Turner, had been there when SHIELD was founded, working closely with Peggy Carter and Howard Stark to turn the agency into something bigger than could be imagined. Her entire childhood was based around growing up in SHIELD offices, playing with Captain America figurines and learning everything there was to being in a super-secret spy organisation from a young age. She'd naturally fallen into the position of being an agent as soon as she was old enough.

Roman Winters was a rich kid - there was no doubting that. Flunked high school, didn't make it to college and instantly became the disappointment of his wealthy parents. It had been their close friend, Howard Stark, that had suggested he take up a career working underneath him. For the first time in his life, Roman Winters had found something he genuinely enjoyed doing - and the rest was history.

Roman and Lindsey were strangers when they were assigned to be on STRIKE Team Alpha, the first sub-team of the division. By the time the next spring had came around, they were head over heels in love. It wasn't long before marriage, then in February 1983, they welcomed little Isaac Winters into the world. Avery Winters wasn't long after, making her grand debut into the world at the start of 1985.

Rich, spoilt kids - who just so happened to also be legacies of SHIELD.

From the day she was old enough to really understand who her parents were, Avery loved the double life that came with her lineage. She loved the thrill of going from normal Avery to gala-attendee Avery. She loved being able to recite lines about her fabricated family behaviours, whether that was telling her father's latest mission target about the pony her father was purchasing for Christmas, or the latest gadget that she was expecting for her birthday - she nailed the spoilt rich kid persona to a tee.

It was why Natasha Romanoff found herself instantly captivated by the woman.

She'd been gathering intel on a Norwegian arms dealer for a few months now with Clint, and had embarked on a solo undercover operation to continue to select intel while he was on family leave. It was her first real solo mission since she had joined SHIELD the year before, after her defection from the Red Room - so it made sense that he was nervous for her.

Not that Natasha knew it, but his nerves were slightly calmer once he realised who Avery Winters had been trailing in Prague for the past month - the exact same dealer.

Despite Avery having grown up around SHIELD and having met Clint on his very first day as an agent, she'd never actually met Natasha Romanoff. It was no lie that Fury was rather protective of Isaac - since he was his godfather - so it was no surprise that the technician hadn't been in the list of people Fury wanted a defective Russian super spy to meet. Avery, however, was much more quick on her feet and it was somewhat surprising that two of SHIELD's most skilled agents hadn't yet crossed paths.

Fury liked that. Clint... wasn't sure how he felt about them meeting without him as a buffer but he figured that they'd either get along very well or hate each other and there was nothing he'd be able to do about that.

Natasha wasn't too sure how much the other woman knew about her since she'd joined the agency at the start of 2008. She figured that if anyone was going to know anything, it probably would be the infamous Avery Winters - who unofficially started as a SHIELD agent from a young age and officially on the very day she turned 16. She was a level 7 clearance - tied with Clint and one level above Natasha. There was little that happened at SHIELD without Avery somehow knowing.

Avery didn't think often about Natasha Romanoff. She had heard the stories from Clint, but they were always surface level and he had been very guarded with her about what he shared. Avery didn't take offence to it - but she would be lying if she said it hadn't intrigued her once or twice to take a look at Natasha's file. There weren't many files she didn't have access to in the database, and finding out that one was above her clearance level certainly sparked her interest.

So when Avery looked across the room and saw a familiar red head in a stunning forest green dress, she knew that the night was about to get a lot more interesting.

Avery gracefully wove through the crowd, her blue gown shimmering under the soft chandelier light as she casually exchanged greetings with familiar faces on the way. Attending these events from birth had really given her an upper hand at blending in. She made her way to the bar, her eyes frequently flickering back to the redhead across the room, watching her carefully to assess why she was here.

The bartender approached, his crisp white shirt a stark contrast to the polished mahogany of the bar. He looked her up and down, an appreciative look on his face as he admired her for a second before realising the stoic look she was staring him down with. He blushed as he realised that he had been caught checking her out, his cheeks burning as he stuttered a little.

"What can I get for you, miss?"

Avery leaned in, her voice low and smooth, a small smirk on her lips as his eyes widened a little in nerves, not sure how to react to the woman getting closer to him.

"Just a regular old fashioned, please..." she trailed off as she looked to his name tag. "Cameron."

He excused himself to work on the drink as she looked over her shoulder, eyes scanning the room in search of her target. Nothing yet.

The cool glass of the old fashioned clinked on the marble behind her and Avery turned back to the bar. She raised the drink to her lips, the crisp whisky dancing on her tongue as she hummed a little in appreciation. Her eyes flickered back to where the bartender was now serving someone else, a lot more reserved and collected than he had been after their encounter. As she set the glass down, she felt a presence beside her, a subtle shift in the air that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"Do you always like to make your bartenders nervous?"

"Only the cute ones," Avery replied, a twinkle in her eyes as she angled her body to the right, looking at the redhead with a smile on her lips. "Why, got any tips for next time?"

Up close, the infamous Black Widow was even more striking than the photos that Avery had seen from mission reports and Clint. Her green eyes sparkled with intelligence and a hint of mischief, matching perfectly with her forest green dress that hugged every curve. Her accent was more Americanised than Avery expected, although she figured that a year in the USA and survival instincts would do that to a person like Natasha.

"I don't believe we've been formally introduced," Natasha said, extending her hand. "Natalie Rushman."

So, Avery thought, she was here on a mission after all. But for what? Who?

"Ebony Winters," Avery murmured gently, knowing Natasha would have questions about that.

It had been her mother's request to her father when they'd started getting her and Isaac involved in their cover stories - no real first names. Isaac had chosen his own fake name, Jeremiah, and her mother had picked out Ebony for her so that if five year-old Avery slipped up and said her real name, it could be easily passed off as someone else having misheard. She couldn't change it now - not since most of the people at these events had watched her grow up in attendance as Ebony.

"I don't think I've seen you around at any of these events before, Ms Rushman," Avery poked, smiling at her lightly as she sipped on her old fashioned, turning her body around so that her back was to the bar and her eyes were able to flicker over Natasha but assess the crowd at the same time. She was here for business, after all. "Not without your partner."

The underlying question - why was Natasha on a solo mission at the same place as Avery?

"I'm just visiting town," Natasha replied, her posture still rather tense for someone who was meant to be looking casual at the bar. "Thought I'd have an evening to myself, for a change. You never know who you might bump into at an event like this."

"Point proven," Avery replied, motioning between them but allowing her eyes to focus on someone in the distance. Natasha trailed her eye line, holding back a chuckle as she realised who Avery was clearly assessing from across the room.

"Friend of yours?" Natasha asked casually, her own gaze now fixed on the same man.

"Old family acquaintance," Avery replied smoothly, her tone betraying nothing. "Haven't seen him in years. I should probably go say hello."

She made to move away from the bar, but Natasha's hand on her arm stopped her. The touch was light, but Avery felt a jolt of electricity run through her at the contact.

"Mind if I join you?" Natasha asked, her green eyes searching Avery's face. "I've always been curious about the Winters family circle."

And just like that, the penny dropped.

Avery hesitated, unsure how to play the situation. It was now apparent to her that Natasha was here for the same reason she was: intel on Lucas Larsen.

She turned back to Natasha, studying the redhead's face carefully. There was something about the way Natasha carried herself, a coiled tension beneath her elegant exterior, that intrigued Avery. It was like looking in a mirror, recognising the same carefully constructed facade she herself wore.

Despite her initial interest in the woman, Avery held herself back from bristling a little at the knowledge that they were on the same target. It wasn't like Fury to keep things from her - and there was no way he hadn't approved this solo mission for Romanoff. He knew fine well they were here for the same thing, and it annoyed her that he hadn't given her a heads up.

"Sure," Avery replied, her voice a little tight and instantly being picked up by Natasha.

The redhead nodded but held back from saying anything else as she fell into step with the shorter woman.

"Mr. Larsen! It's been far too long," Avery exclaimed as she strode towards the older man, her voice pitched perfectly to convey warmth and excitement.

The man turned, his eyes widening slightly in recognition.

"Ebony Winters! My goodness, you've grown into quite the young woman. How are your parents?"

Natasha was surprised as Avery continued to smile, not a single break in her expression or demeanour as she spoke to the man like no time had passed between them.

"They're doing great," Avery replied, her voice a lot more polished than it had been moments ago at the bar with Natasha. "Currently on a six-month excursion in the French Rivera, if you can believe it. And I do assume they'll be extending that to add on a ski season in the Alps too."

The other agent had to admit - that was a smart move on SHIELD's behalf. Having 'Ebony' attend these events while her rich parents handled over the mantle to her as they explored to world? Genius. A perfect and foolproof way to explain why two of the more prominent people at these events had stopped showing up for the past seven years, especially almost as soon as Ebony had reached adulthood.

It wasn't like Lindsey or Roman could make it, considering they died on a mission in 2001 - almost an entire eight years prior to the evening they were currently in.

Natasha watched with keen interest as Avery effortlessly navigated the conversation with Mr. Larsen. The younger woman's ability to slip into her cover identity was impressive, even to someone of Natasha's caliber. She found herself studying Avery's mannerisms, the way her eyes sparkled with just the right amount of enthusiasm, the carefully modulated tone of her voice.

It had been a long time since Natasha had been this intrigued by someone, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it.

"And who might this lovely lady be?" Larsen asked, his gaze shifting to Natasha.

Without missing a beat, Avery placed a hand on Natasha's arm, the touch light but deliberate.

"Oh, where are my manners? This is Natalie Rushman, a dear friend visiting from New York. Natalie, this is Mr. Larsen, an old family friend."

Natasha stepped forward, offering her hand with a warm smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Larsen. I've heard so much about the Winters' circle of friends."

As the conversation flowed, both women subtly steered it towards topics that might yield useful information about the man. Natasha marveled at how seamlessly she and Avery worked together, despite never having met before. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a silent dance of give and take as they manoeuvred through the social niceties.

The evening wore on, Avery and Natasha continuing their delicate dance of gathering intel while maintaining their covers. The two women moved through the gala with practiced ease, their eyes constantly scanning the room for potential leads or threats.

The crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the opulent ballroom, their light catching on the sequins of Avery's blue gown and the emerald fabric of Natasha's dress. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the soft murmur of hushed conversations.

As midnight approached, Avery caught Natasha's eye from across the room. With a subtle nod, they both made their way towards the exit, exchanging polite goodbyes with various guests along the way.

Once outside, the cool night air was a welcome respite from the stuffy atmosphere of the gala. Avery took a deep breath, letting the crisp breeze clear her head. She turned to Natasha, her expression now serious and focused.

"I think we need a debrief," Avery muttered, her polished tone dropping now that they were out of eyesight and earshot of the gala attendees. "Don't you?"

Natasha nodded, her green eyes glinting with curiosity and a hint of caution.

"Lead the way."

They walked in companionable silence, their heels clicking softly against the cobblestone streets. The city was quiet at this late hour, with only the occasional car passing by and the distant sound of music from a nearby club breaking the stillness.

Avery's hotel was a discreet, upscale establishment tucked away on a side street. The lobby was dimly lit and mercifully empty as they made their way to the elevator.

When they reached Avery's suite, she quickly swept the room for bugs, a habit ingrained from years of training. Natasha did the same, their movements synchronised as if they'd worked together for years.

"Drink?" Avery offered, moving to the minibar.

"Vodka, if you have it," Natasha replied, settling onto the plush sofa by the window.

Avery poured two glasses and joined Natasha, kicking off her heels with a sigh of relief. For a moment, they sat in silence, sipping their drinks and watching the city lights twinkling beyond the window.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect to run into the Black Widow tonight."

"I could say the same about you. I wasn't aware there'd be another agent on this mission."

"Looks like we've both been kept in the dark," Avery mused, swirling the vodka in her glass. "Question is, why?"

"I'm guessing Fury had his reasons," Natasha replied, watching closely for Avery's reaction. She was still trying to suss out the connection between Avery and Fury. She knew Isaac and Fury were close, but there was always little spoken about Avery and her brother's godfather.

"He always does," Avery muttered, a hint of frustration in her voice. "But it doesn't make our jobs any easier. What did you manage to gather tonight?"

Clint wasn't sure what happened that night - other than what they'd told him, but it seemed Fury had achieved his ulterior move after all. He needed agents he could trust, and if Avery granted him her seal of approval of Natasha Romanoff then he knew his gut decision to let her defect to SHIELD was a good one.

So when Avery returned two weeks later and asked Fury if there was a chance for her to go on a joint mission with Romanoff, should the opportunity ever present itself, he couldn't have been more content.

____

Present Day

Isaac drummed his fingers against the table, his eyes refusing to look up from them as they repeatedly hit the cool metal underneath.

"It was supposed to be a simple recon mission. Intel gathering, nothing more. You were excited - it was our first proper lead in a while. I... I gave you the coordinates, told you and the guys what to look for."

His voice broke, and he paused, swallowing hard.

"I didn't see you again after that. Kept thinking it was my fault that you were gone, that if you hadn't of stuck up for me then I wouldn't have put you in harms way."

Avery sat motionless, her face an impassive mask as Isaac's words hung heavy in the air. The room felt oppressively silent, save for the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the table. She studied him with detached curiosity, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes refused to meet hers.

"I..." Isaac's voice cracked again. He cleared his throat and tried once more. "I spent every day looking for you. We all did. Natasha, she... she took it hard. Blamed herself for not being there."

Avery's voice, when she finally spoke, was flat and emotionless.

"Your guilt serves no purpose. The past is irrelevant."

Isaac flinched at the coldness in her tone. This wasn't his sister - not the vibrant, compassionate woman he'd grown up with. This was someone else entirely.

"Avery, please," he pleaded, reaching out to touch her hand. She jerked away from his touch, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Do not touch me," she hissed, her voice low and threatening. "I am not this person that you remember. I do not know who Avery Winters is."

Isaac withdrew his hand, his heart breaking anew at the vehemence in her words.

"What you're saying... it's just a story to me," she said flatly. "I don't feel anything about it. I don't care for it."

Isaac's shoulders slumped, the weight of his sister's indifference crushing him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. What could he possibly say to break through the icy wall Hydra had built around her mind?

"I understand," he said softly, though his voice betrayed his pain. "But I need you to know that we never stopped looking for you. We never gave up hope."

Avery's expression remained impassive, but Isaac pressed on, his voice taking on a wistful tone.

"You know, growing up you always loved those events that Mom and Dad would take us to. From the time you were little, you'd spend hours getting ready, twirling in front of the mirror in your fancy dresses. I remember this one time, you must have been about six or seven, and you insisted on wearing this ridiculous tiara with your gown. Mom tried to talk you out of it, but you were so stubborn."

He chuckled softly at the memory, his eyes growing distant.

"The ballrooms were always so grand, weren't they? Crystal chandeliers hanging from ornate ceilings, the light catching on the sequins of the women's dresses. You used to say it was like being in a fairy tale."

Isaac's fingers traced patterns on the table as he continued, his voice growing softer.

"And the music... Do you remember how you'd always beg Dad to dance with you? He'd pretend to grumble about it, but we all knew he loved it. He'd sweep you up in his arms, and you'd stand on his feet as he waltzed you around the room... always the centre of attention, you two."

He paused, watching Avery's face carefully for any sign of recognition.

"There was this one gala, I think it was for some children's charity. They had a chocolate fountain, and you were absolutely mesmerized by it. You snuck away from Mom and Dad and managed to eat so much chocolate that you got sick all over your new dress. I found you hiding in a coat closet, crying because you thought Mom would be mad. That was the same night you kept telling people you were Avery, and not Ebony. That you decided you didn't want us to have fake names anymore."

Isaac's lips quirked in a sad smile.

"But instead of getting angry, Mom just laughed. She cleaned you up, wrapped you in Dad's suit jacket, and we all left early. We stopped for ice cream on the way home, even though it was way past our bedtime."

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Avery's face.

"It was more than just a cover story, Avery. It was our life. Our family. Don't you remember any of it?"

He searched her face desperately, hoping to see even the smallest flicker of recognition in her eyes. But Avery's expression remained unchanged, her gaze cold and distant. The silence stretched between them.

"Look, Isaac, Jeremiah, whatever your name is - I'm sorry that you think I'm someone that I'm not. I don't know what you're talking about at all - and I also really don't care for your stories."

He stood up slowly, his movements heavy and defeated.

"I... I understand," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

As he turned to leave, he cast one last glance at Avery, hoping against hope that something might change.

The walk back to his room felt like an eternity. Each step echoed in the empty hallway, a reminder of the hollowness he felt inside. The soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead seemed to mock him, their steady drone a stark contrast to the turmoil in his mind.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Isaac's composure crumbled. He slid down against the wall, his body wracked with silent sobs.

He cried for the sister he'd lost, for the years of searching that had led to this cruel twist of fate. He cried for the memories that now existed only in his mind, for the laughter and joy that seemed so distant now.

The room around him blurred as he wept, almost as if that was mocking him now too. It was all so stupid - he'd lost his parents and now he'd lost his sister too and everything was his fucking fault. All because he thought some girl at a coffee shop genuinely liked him, and his desire to be liked.

As the tears began to subside, Isaac found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror across the room. His eyes were red and puffy, his hair disheveled. He barely recognized himself, this broken man who had failed so utterly in his mission to save his sister.

He was useless.

Yelena wasn't even picking up his calls - which she always did. Natasha had clearly not told her about their predicament, or if she had, Yelena was blaming Isaac too. Everyone had the right to blame him... this was all his fault.

He dragged himself to the bed, collapsing onto the crisp white sheets. The coolness of the pillow against his cheek offered little comfort as his mind raced, replaying every moment of his encounter with Avery.

Isaac's gaze fell on a framed photo on the bedside table - a snapshot of him and Avery from years ago, both of them grinning widely at some long-forgotten joke. He reached for it with trembling hands, tracing the outline of Avery's face through the glass.

The room grew darker as the sun set outside, casting long shadows across the floor. Isaac remained huddled against the wall, lost in his grief and regret. He replayed their conversation over and over in his mind, searching for anything he might have said differently, any way he could have reached her.

No-one came to check on him. Why would they? They all hated him anyway.

He lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen, as he replayed Avery's words in his mind.

"Look, Isaac, Jeremiah, whatever your name is..."

Isaac's breath caught in his throat.

Holy shit.

Isaac sat up abruptly, his heart pounding. He ran through the conversation again in his mind, eyes clenching shut as he rubbed at his temples, trying to recall every second of his short lived attempt to get through to his sister.

But he was certain – he had never mentioned it.

He had never told Avery his cover name was Jeremiah.