Kabul, Afghanistan (07/05/2008)
The air was still and heavy. Maria glanced over at where Clint was unpacking crates from the quinjet, and looked sideways at where Natasha was standing next to her.
“You ready?” Natasha asked gently. Maria nodded sharply.
“Our field liaison should be coming to greet us,” she explained. “Coulson’s had all the contact with her, but she knows we’re here.” A movement in front of her caught her eye, and her hand instinctively darted to her gun.
“Easy, soldier,” called a familiar voice, and Maria, startled, looked forward to see a face she never expected to see again.
“No, no,” she whispered, pressing her hands against her eyes. “Not now.” She felt a hand touch her shoulder and jumped, pulling her gun out of its holster but luckily not aiming it.
“It’s okay, Maria. This is just our liaison, right?”
“Exactly,” the woman agreed. “Colonel Alyssa Marshall. At your service, ma’am.”
Maria, feeling entirely idiotic, shook her head. “They told me you were dead.”
“They wish!” Marshall laughed. “Nothing can keep me down for long.”
Marshall held her arms out, and Maria hugged her tightly, Alyssa thumping her on the back. “But— everyone else. They’re all…”
Alyssa’s face was stony. “I’m sorry, Hill. There was nothing anyone could do.”
“No.” Maria turned to Natasha. “Agent Romanoff, this is my unit leader from my last tour over here.”
“She and I are the last of the 14th left standing,” boasted Alyssa. “Your girl’s got balls. She’s the one that sent the distress signal to the rest of the troops. I’d be dead if not for her.”
“Isn’t that the norm in Afghanistan?” asked Clint, popping up behind Alyssa. “Saving your unit’s lives, I mean?”
“He may not look it, but this one’s saved my life too many times to count,” Natasha admitted. “He’s an asset.”
“Well, I’m pleased to be making the acquaintance of some of SHIELD’s best agents,” declared Alyssa. “Come on inside, I’ll show you around the base. I bet you won’t even recognise it, Maria,”
The base had hardly changed. There was new paint on the walls, a few new damaged sections, and a new wing of barracks, but it mostly looked exactly the same as it had when Maria was deployed there. After a round of introductions, Maria, Natasha, and Clint found themselves in one of the barracks, their meagre clothes lying on bunks. Clint looked at Talia.
“Not like the Burj al Arab, is it?”
“Not exactly,” agreed Natasha dryly. “Though I expect you’re used to it, Maria.”
“We’ve all slept in much worse conditions than this,” said Maria. “We’ll need to rest— the orphanage is a long drive and we’ll need to be well-rested.”
Clint sat down on one of the bunks. “It’s so hard,” he moaned. “How did you do this for five years, Maria?”
“Tolerance and perseverance,” Maria said. “It’s a skill.” The heat of the evening was suffocating her, and she closed her eyes. It was hard, being back. The barracks were exactly as she remembered them, and she half-expected Frank or Dave to come bounding in and shake her, grabbing her to go get food from the canteen, or to play a prank on Alex. She turned away from the door. There was distant gunfire, and she had to work hard not to jump up and run. This was normal here. Honestly, she remembered, you had more issues when the gunfire stopped.
“Let’s turn in for the night,” said Natasha, her eyes fixed on Maria. Maria was grateful, really. Natasha had always been incredibly perceptive, and Maria was glad she picked up on her desire to be alone. “I’ll set an alarm for the morning.”
The next morning was possibly even hotter than the day before. Maria awoke to the sound of a peaceful tune playing on Natasha’s phone. She was glad it wasn’t beeping, but a little bemused. She wouldn’t have pegged the Black Widow as a pretty alarm kind of girl.
“Wake up, Clint,” sang Natasha, yanking the covers off him.
“Awww, covers, no,” moaned Clint, blinking up blearily. “What was that for, Natty?”
“To get your lazy butt out of bed,” retaliated Natasha. “Look at Maria. She’s getting up all on her own. You’d do well to take lessons from her, Clinton Barton.”
Maria laughed, tugging her camouflage trousers on over her socks. She laced up her boots, then stood up. “I’m going to see the colonel, get an idea of our extraction plan for today. You both know the general gist of the mission?”
“Actually, Phil told us you’d explain when we got here, to minimise security leaks,” Natasha explained. “What’s the plan, boss?”
“There’s an asset at an orphanage just outside the city limits,” said Maria. “Our mission is to go in, get her, and get out again.”
“Sounds easy,” grumbled Clint. “Why’d you have to wake me so early?”
“It would be much easier if the Taliban wasn’t also after her,” said Maria dryly.
Clint looked abashed. “Yeah, okay. Let me just get some coffee, then I’ll be ready to go.” He stumbled out into the corridor.
Natasha looked back at Maria, rolling her eyes. “I’ll make sure he changes out of his Pokemon pyjamas too.”
Maria was squished in uncomfortably between Natasha and a soldier she didn’t recognise. Clint was sitting on the other side with two more soldiers. They were all seated on hard metal benches, more guns in the vehicle than SHIELD ever sanctioned for even the biggest missions. Colonel Marshall was in the front, next to the driver.
“Are we nearly there yet?” called Clint. Natasha smacked his arm across the car.
“About twenty minutes out,” replied Alyssa from the front. “This road can sometimes be dangerous, so we’re taking our time.”
Maria glanced out of the window. It wasn’t the same road, but it could have been. There was nothing but empty dunes stretching as far as the eye could see. She bounced her gun on her knee, feeling restless. Natasha rested her hand on Maria’s back, subtly enough that nobody else saw. It was comforting.
“I’m so bored, Anansi,” groaned Clint.
Maria raised her eyebrows and turned to Natasha. “He can survive eight-hour stakeouts, but a forty minute car journey is beyond him?”
Natasha laughed, and was about to answer when an explosion sounded in the distance, rocking the Humvee. Maria and Natasha were thrown forwards, Maria hitting her head hard on the bench on the other side. When her vision cleared, she looked around in rising panic. The rest of her unit was disoriented too, most of them lying prone on the wall of the sideways Humvee.
Maria swore. “That was an IED. No way we’ll be alone out here for long.” Dave’s eyes flicked to the door in the back of the vehicle.
“We’ll have to get out anyway,” he reasoned. “Our guys need medical attention.”
“Okay,” agreed Maria. “I think my arm’s broken. Anyone else seriously hurt?”
“I can’t move my leg,” moaned Frank. “And Alex is unconscious.”
Maria nodded slowly. “Alyssa?” she called. There was no response. “We have to hope she’s okay. Let’s get out.”
With a lot of effort, Maria and Dave managed to open the door and get the whole unit out. Maria blinks against the bright desert sun, and makes out at least five figures, one of them holding an unconscious Alyssa. Maria swore again.
“Let her go!” yelled Dave, pulling out his gun. The assailants barely hesitated before shooting him in the forehead. He crumpled to the ground.
“Dave!” cried Frank. He turned his head to stare daggers at the Taliban, but before Maria could even breathe, he had a bullet in his brain too. Maria could see their leader take in her major’s insignia, and he shot Alex and Harvey too.
“Maria!” someone cried. Maria paused. Why was someone calling her name? She wasn’t dead. She was the only one who wasn’t dead. Why wasn’t she dead?
“What do you want?” she spat in Pashto, hardly able to look at the bodies either side of her.
“Isn’t that clear? We want American guns, and American intelligence.” The leader signalled, and another of the assailants grabbed her arms, pinning her to the side of the Humvee. She screamed in pain.
“Masha, it’s okay.” Maria shook her head adamantly. This wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay, because her men were dead and she wasn’t and it was all her fault, and the leader was still talking but the words didn’t make any sense, and then he had red hair and the words were in Russian and the Humvee wasn’t on its side, it was the right way up, and Dave and Frank and Alex and Harvey were gone all over again, and she was crying and coughing, her shoulders heaving. The red-haired person in front of her had switched to English now.
“Masha, it’s okay, you’re safe, I promise. It’s 2008, and you’re safe, and I’m here.” Next to the red-haired girl was a man. Maria knew she recognised them. But Dave -- where were her men?
“I-- where--?” Maria gasped.
“It’s okay, Masha,” promised the red-haired person.
“Tasha?” managed Maria.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. I’m here, Masha. You’re okay.” Natasha held out her hand, and Maria grasped it like a lifeline, breathing out slowly. “You’re going to be okay.”