Coming Down ➢ Steve Rogers

prologue

Natasha hadn't considered what damage the girl's hair might be hiding. Now she looked closer, she could see blood matting a part of the girl's hair which she had not picked up at first sight. She began to lower her weapons.

The girl's head whipped around and rested on the group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents gathered before her. She screamed and backed up, clutching her hand close to her chest, her face taut with fear.

"Back off," Natasha whispered to the other agents. They complied without hesitation, leaving her and Clint closest to the girl.

The redhead lowered herself to the girl's level.

"Are you –" Nat breathed, but before she could get another word out the girl cried out and, with the agility and power of someone who had trained for years, she'd kicked Nat's legs out from beneath her and jumped back, panting hard.

"Hold your fire!" Clint barked to the other agents, as weapons were drawn, all pointing at the girl as Natasha clambered back to her feet.

Nat was glad he had spoken up; the girl looked like no threat despite her expert skills hand-to-hand. Rather, she was someone to be protected. Her eyes were wide, wild, flicking between everyone like prey cornered by predators. Her chapped lips were parted, her breath coming to her in sharp gasps for breath. Despite her fighting stance, Natasha could see the girl tremble.

"Who are you?" the girl whispered. Her voice was hoarse, like she hadn't used it in days.

Natasha stepped forward. Clint frowned, opening his mouth, but Natasha shook her head at him and faced the girl, raising her hands to show she was weaponless, a friend. "I'm Natasha," she said. "We've come to help you. I promise, we mean you no harm."

The girl bit her lip but didn't respond.

"What's your name?"

"I'm..." The girl paused, considering. Her eyes suddenly widened, the blood draining rapidly from her face.

"What's wrong?" Natasha probed. She risked another step forward. "We can help –"

"I'm Delaney. Delaney Esquivel," the girl blurted. "I think. I don't know. I – I don't remember... I don't remember anything. At all. It's all gone." Her voice trembled; Natasha could almost feel the terror surging through the girl. She gripped her brunette locks, breathing heavily. "I – I don't know who I am."

"Delaney -" Natasha whispered, her heart breaking for the other girl, but Delaney was paying Natasha no attention, frightened, she continued to babble a torrent of words under her breath.

"I don't know how old I am. If I have parents. If I have friends. I don't know how I got here – I don't know who you are!" The girl gasped and suddenly stepped back from the others. "Who are you? What have you done?"

"We've done nothing," Clint spoke up. He too stepped forward, a gentle expression in his eyes. He smiled; there was something reassuring about Clint's smile, Natasha thought. He was so warm and you couldn't help but trust him. "Delaney, I promise you, we've just arrived. Let us help you."

"I don't believe you," Delaney whispered. "Go away – stop!" she shrieked, as another agent stepped forward. She glared at him with the intensity of a wild, caged animal. "Stay away from me!"

The agent, who Natasha recognised to be Evan Wilde, suddenly stopped in his tracks. It was an abrupt motion, mid step, and he hadn't exactly been moving slowly, either. It was like some other force had taken control of his body, made it act without his consent.

Some other force... Natasha's gaze snapped back to Delaney, who had covered her head in her hands. Stop, she'd screamed. Stay away from me.

And without warning, Evan had stopped.

Feeling cold all over, Natasha turned to Evan. "Evan?"

He shook his head. "I can't move forward," he breathed. "I can't approach her. I can move back, but not toward her. At all."

Natasha and Clint exchanged a glance and took in the terrified girl. She wasn't as harmless as Natasha had first supposed. She was dangerous and, if she fell into the wrong hands, it could mean a catastrophe. The ability to take over the mind of another... Natasha suppressed a shiver. She could, if she was powerful enough, if she was trained... She could stop an army in its tracks.

The situation had turned far more delicate.

"Delaney," she whispered, in her gentlest, most reassuring voice. "We mean you no harm. Look, we're weaponless." At this, she dropped her weapons to the ground. Clint lowered his boy and shrugged off his quiver of arrows. At their lead, the other agents lowered their weapons as well, the metal clattering against the floor.

Delaney peeked up from her hands warily. As she saw the variety of weapons on the floor, after a brief hesitation, she lifted her head and lowered her hands to her side.

"Do you promise?"

She sounded so much like a child; vulnerable, exposed, terrified, but with an element of hope entwined with her words. Natasha wasn't surprised. Waking up with no idea who you were and being surrounded by armed soldiers would be overwhelming for anyone.

"Of course." Natasha continued to walk forward until she was beside the girl. With a smile, she offered her hand. "We'll do whatever we can to help you. We can help you control your powers, and protect you."

Delaney's eyebrows furrowed. "What powers?"

Natasha resisted the urge to look back at Clint. Instead, she peered intently at the brunette, and realised she was telling the truth. She was so confused – she truly didn't know that she had powers.

Which meant she wouldn't know how to control them.

"Later," she said breezily. "Come on – we need to leave. I'm sure you don't want to stay for much longer."

Delaney chuckled weakly. "I suppose not." She touched the back of her head; more blood covered her fingers. "I mustn't have been very welcome here."

"Ah, yes. We'll have that looked at."

Delaney nodded and reached her hand to take Natasha's, gingerly, as though afraid Natasha would break it. Instead Natasha hauled the girl to her feet and squeezed her shoulder and directed her toward Clint, who grinned.

"Hey, Lane," he said, and Natasha let him take over. He would be better for this than she was. Even now, Clint rested an arm around Delaney's shoulders. "Are you hungry?" he asked as they made their way through the other agents toward the exit.

"A little."

"We'll grab some food before we take you anywhere. Pizza sound good?"

Her face brightened. "Sounds great."

Natasha smiled. Delaney Esquivel might be a mystery, but she was sure with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s help, they could assist her discover who she was, what had happened her. Maybe through her, they could find this group before they could become a viable threat.

That was, until S.H.I.E.L.D. discovered that Delaney Esquivel didn't exist. There was no birth certificate, no sign that her name had been changed. They couldn't even discover who her parents were. And Delaney's memories didn't return over the next five years.

Even though Natasha spent her days training with Delaney and Clint, laughing, and exchanging jokes, Delaney Esquivel remained as much a mystery to her as they day they first met.