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THE MISSION WAS A success. Rosalie Mai had done it again. She celebrated on her own, at a small café in Paris, away from the CIA, away from Foster — paradise on Earth for the young spy. "Here you are," The waiter smiled as he placed her coffee in front of her.

Rosalie nodded silently, smiling gratefully. With her book open in one hand, she tenderly sipped the coffee and sighed. It was a luxury after the month-long undercover job. But her lot in life seemed to be never getting alone time. Her phone began buzzing rapidly in her pocket and as much as she tried to ignore it, Rosalie caved. "What?" She spat, picking up the call.

"Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," The nasally voice of Wyatt Foster chuckled through the phone.

Rosalie groaned, shutting her book with a loud snap. A few other customers looked curiously over at her. "What do you want, Wyatt? I'm on vacation."

"Oh, Rosie," He sighed. Rosalie gritted her teeth at the nickname, the image of blonde hair crossing her mind. "Don't be like that, doll. I'm just calling to check up on you...that's all."

Rosalie scoffed. "What's the catch, Foster? You don't call me unless you want me to do some of your dirty work."

Wyatt sighed once again, deeper and longer. "Rosalie, Rosalie," She could see him shaking his head vividly. "Are you always this negative? I just have a small little job I hoped you'd be interested in."

"Nope. No way," She shook her head. "These jobs of yours usually end up with me getting tortured or worse. I'm not doing it."

"That's too bad," Wyatt shrugged. "Because it pays really, really well,"

"Curses..." Rosalie mumbled under her breath. Wyatt knew that would get her. "How much?"

Wyatt laughed boastfully. "Ninety-six thousand, give or take."

"What's the job?" She sighed.

"I'm glad you asked!" Wyatt proclaimed. "News travels fast and I've learned that the Red Room has fallen...or at least Dreykov has," He chuckled darkly. "His Widows have defected. I want you to track as many as you can down. Those girls would do wonders for the CIA."

A pit formed in Rosalie's stomach. The Red Room. The Widows. She remembered a time when she was tracking them down to kill them, but now the CIA wants to recruit them? It was crazy. She vowed to never get involved with those women again — with Yelena, but yet here she was, accepting a job that would lead her to them once again. "Okay..." She sighed. "Send me the information and I'll start tomorrow."

"There's no way you can start...I don't know...now?" Wyatt pressed.

"You should be grateful I even answered your call in the first place," Rosalie scoffed. "I am on vacation and I plan to be until tomorrow. Send the information, I'll take a look at it," She quickly snapped her phone shut and let out a relieved sigh. But as she reopened her book, the reality of what she just accepted dawned on her. "Shit..."

She couldn't resist checking her email that night. The list of Widows was long at least, if not all of them, were completely MIA. There was one, however, that caught her eye — Yelena Belova. That name haunted her dreams every night for three years. Under her name was her last known location — the crash site of the Red Room, along with ten other Widows. With a location, they would be easier to track. It wasn't smooth sailing, but it was a start. Rosalie got to work compiling what little intel she had from every contact she had. There was much, just bits and pieces, but those bits and pieces put together and just the right way would lead her to the rogue Widows.

"I need a plane," She begrudgingly called Wyatt the next day. She stood outside in the cool Paris morning air, her fluffy jacket wrapped tightly around her.

"That's a big demand, Rosie," Wyatt drawled. The nickname coming from his mouth made her skin crawl. "A costly demand. What do I get in return?"

"You're kidding, right?" Rosalie scoffed. "I'm tracking down over a dozen Widows for you and you're asking what you get for giving me a plane?" She rolled her eyes. "Did you hit your head or something? You get my services, or I can go straight to the higher ups and let them know about your little side hustle."

"Oh, Rosie. You wound me," Wyatt was completely unphased by her threat. "It's cute that you think they don't know," He chuckled. Rosalie's stomach dropped and she paled. "I'll get you that plane. There's an airfield in Lille. A plane will be waiting for you."

Rosalie sighed with relief. "Thank you, Wyatt," She couldn't wait to hang up. Not being able to stand another word from his mouth, she quickly shut her phone and stuffed it in her pocket. As she walked down the street to find a cab, Rosalie could feel eyes on her. She kept an eye over her shoulder, but she no one. Shaking it off as just a nervous tick grown over the years, she quickly hailed a cab. "Can you go to Lille?" She asked the driver in French.

His eyes widened. "Dear god, no! I can get you half but that's it,"

"I'll take half," Rosalie agreed. She'd just have to find a car to steal to drive the other half, which wasn't a problem for her. The driver dropped her exactly halfway and a car sitting on the side of the road was ripe for the taking. Arriving at the airfield, Rosalie could see a small plane sitting on the tarmac, waiting for her. She was glad Wyatt kept up his end of the bargain.

Her first stop was Russia. If the Red Room had only just fallen, she was sure there would be some Widows remaining in the country. Sneaking around Russia was not an easy thing to do, it seemed everywhere she went, there would be someone sleeping in an alley or simply standing on a street corner. She had only stopped simply to take a break, but as she placed her hands on her hips breath, she was suddenly pulled back by her shoulders and slammed to the ground. Rosalie yelled out in pain as her shoulder hit the concrete with a crack.

She couldn't see her attacker, so she kicked and smacked blindly until she was able to get the upper hand and pin whoever it was to the ground. She looked down at them, at her, with anger. "Who are you?" She spat in Russian.

The woman struggled from under her and there was a sudden searing pain in Rosalie's thigh. She gasped as a knife was slid form under her and the attacker quickly made her mover to regain the upper hand. Rosalie recognized the tactic — her attacker was a Widow. Her thigh was bleeding profusely but she had to fight. Doing her best to punch, she was ultimately pinned by the Widow, who pressed down painfully on her open wound, sending a white hot flash through Rosalie's leg. "The better question is, who are you?" The Widow leaned down, getting in Rosalie's face. "Why are you looking for us?"

"How did you know?" Rosalie wheezed. The Widow loosened the press on her thigh ever so slightly, but it brought Rosalie some relief.

"That does not matter," The Widow spat. "Who do you work for? The Americans?"

"Yes and no," Rosalie grumbled. If she were to gain the trust of his Widow and get her off so she could treat her wound, she would have to play along. "CIA. They're...interested in you. The Widows."

Rosalie gasped as the painful pressure on her wound lifted as the Widow towered over her. "We are not interested in them," She crossed her arms. "You go run back with your tail between your legs and tell them that!"

Rosalie winced as she moved to prop herself up against the brick wall. She bit down on her tongue so hard it began to bleed. "I can't go back empty handed. They'll...they won't be kind," She watched the affect her words had on the Widow, she could see the gears turning as her gaze turned almost sympathetic — exactly what she wanted. "What is your name?" Rosalie asked in the kindest voice she could.

The Widow hesitated for a second. "...Irina," She said shakily.

Rosalie smiled softly. "Do you think you could help me with this, Irina?" She pointed to her bleeding thigh.

Irina's eyes widened. "Oh!" She gasped and rummaged through the pockets of her vest. She pulled out a few white cloths and bandages and quickly began patting down the bleeding cut.

Rosalie cringed. "I-I'll do it..." She held eye contact with Irina as she took the cleaning supplies from her hands and began cleaning up the blood herself. "Do you have any disinfectant? Alcohol?"

Irina shook her head. "Not here, no,"

"Then where? Because this is going to get infected if I don't do something soon," Rosalie pleaded.

She could tell Irina was conflicted, but she had already planted the bug, the idea of leaving Rosalie was now difficult for her because she now saw her as an equal. Rosalie hated this part of infiltration — the lying. Especially to the Widows, lying felt like a betrayal. The things those women had to endure was beyond anything she had, but Irina couldn't know that. "We have a place not to far from here. Can you walk?"

Rosalie tried to move. She could almost walk on her on. "I might need some help,"

"Of course," Irina was quick to wrap and arm around Rosalie, lifting her to her feet. Rosalie nearly bit through her tongue with how hard she was clenching her jaw. But they moved slowly through alleyways until they came across a back alley entrance. "This way," Irina eased Rosalie in and walked her to a small living room, helping her to sit on the couch. "I'll be right back. Don't move," She said sternly before running off.

She didn't have to tell her twice. Rosalie sank into the surprisingly comfortable couch. She kept her guard up, but she was feeling woozy from the loss of blood and it didn't hurt to relax. After a few minutes, she could hear hushed voices arguing. She couldn't hear exact words but she could pin point a few. "What the hell were you thinking?! She's CIA!"

The voices got louder and louder until a familiar face rounded the corner. "Hello, Agent Mai." Yelena Belova crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

Rosalie's throat dried and she found herself unable to speak. The woman who had been stuck in her brain for three years was standing in front of her yet again and she was even more beautiful then she remembered.

AUTHORS NOTE
boy am I excited for this one. Black Widow has quickly become a favourite movie of mine and Yelena is now a HUGE comfort character for me, so naturally, I must make a fic. This chapter isn't super long but I just wanted to introduce the fundamentals of the story so nothing crazy. I hope you enjoyed it!