Alright, so I've been working on this for a few days, but I think I have a good product on my hands. Enjoy it!

Involuntary tears sprang to the corners of Agent Natasha Romanoff's eyes as she finished extricating her breakfast into the overheated porta-potty. She had never liked vomiting, and always had a difficult time telling when it was over. The moment she stood, her stomach would tell her otherwise, and she would spill her guts all over again. This would hopefully be the last time for that day, but she couldn't be sure. Her "friend" Pepper Potts waited outside for her to emerge, but a large part of Natasha was not willing to face up to the fellow red-head.

"Tasha? Are you okay in there?" Pepper's voice sounded from outside the door. "You've been in there an awfully long time." Natasha didn't know how to respond. She was downright frightened, and that never happened. She was a goddamn assassin. She had no time to be scared. Showing weakness was her bed of nails. Should she forget where she lay, her life would end. Just like that. "Tasha, Tony and Clint are waiting for us."

"Just give me a moment," Natasha said, her voice shaking and the aftertaste of her oatmeal almost setting off another bout. She stood slowly, willing all restraint to keep her sane until the end of the day, when she would go home and sleep off whatever caused this. She turned the latch on the door and opened the door to reveal a very worried looking redhead.

"Are you okay? You were in there for quite a while," she asked. Natasha feigned composure and stepped out of the plastic unit, brushing the wrinkles from her navy blue pencil skirt and rolling up her the sleeves on her white button down blouse. Why she chose to wear this on a day like today was beyond her.

"I will be. Probably something I ate." Pepper's worried expression turned confused.

"I haven't seen you eat much today, Tasha," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Would you like me to take you home? You look kind of pale." Natasha didn't know what to say to this. Pepper was really worried for her, and this was her chance to avoid Agent Barton…Clint…while she figured out exactly why her guts were so weak.

Meanwhile, in an Asgardian prison, a certain Frost Giant grinned under his muzzle.

Pepper Potts let the car come to a slow halt in front of Natasha's apartment building. She stared out the window at the dark brown bricks that made up her home, if she could even call it that. She had considered leaving this place on more than one occasion. She thought of leaving New York behind. Perhaps she had even considered leaving the U.S. all-together. But her mind reminded her that there were few places that she could go where her ledger would be wiped. Africa was an option, perhaps the Ivory Coast, or Liberia. Some place where her "career" had not yet taken her. She could change her name, become a native. It was an idea that had entered her mind for no more than a day at a time. She never told anyone.

Natasha turned and looked into her lap, drifting into her own thoughts, imagining herself on a beach somewhere, or in a little hut. For some reason however, her mind drifted to her confrontation between her and the god of mischief several months before.

"Ah, No. But I like this…your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?"

"Regimes fall every day. I tend not to weep over that. I'm Russian. Or…I was."

"And what are you now?" Loki asked, a smile coming to his face.

"It's not really that complicated. I have red in my ledger. I'd like to wipe it out." The smile grew.

"Can you? Can you wipe out that much red? Drakoff's daughter? Sao Paulo? The hospital fire? Barton told me everything," he teases her. His eyes watch hers, and she watches his back. "Your ledger is dripping, it's gushing red. And you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer. Pathetic!" he spat, leaning up against the glass of his cage, his fist pushing into the glass so forcefully that Natasha was afraid that he would break through. The intensity in his eyes was somewhat arousing—however she remained composed.

"NATASHA!" The assassin raised her head and saw her friend's familiar gaze of worry. She gulped, and turned to face Pepper again. "You are way out of it today, are you sure that there isn't something wrong?"

"I'm sure," she said. "Just…ah…not feeling too well. I think I need to sleep it off, I'll be okay in the morning." Pepper nodded and turned the vehicle off. The car unlocked itself and Natasha unbuckled her safety belt and went to exit the vehicle.

"Do you want me to call you in the morning?" Pepper offered with a soft grin. Natasha swallowed again and nodded. One hand rested on the door handle, while the other rested over her now gurgling stomach.

"That would…be nice, thank you Pepper," Natasha said. She pulled the handle and opened the door. "Tell Clint not to bother me tonight, I need the evening to myself," she added quietly.

"Will do Natalie," Pepper replied, seeing one of the other tenants walk past the car and into the building with a small wave at Natasha. She waved back and stepped out of the car. As soon as the door closed, Pepper was off, leaving the agent in her wake. She turned towards the building, quickly, and made her way inside.

Natasha pushed open the glass door and adjusted her purse which was slung over her arm. She smiled at her land lord who stood behind the front desk.

"Welcome back, Miss Rushman," he greeted her as she entered further into the front hall. Natasha liked him more than her previous landlords, because he made it a point to learn the names of each and every tenant of his building. A rare treat that she received upon moving here, seeing as her preconceived notion of landlords was completely blown out of the water.

"Thank you, Mr. Tyler," Natasha answered approaching the desk. Out of habit, Natasha handed him her brass post box key so that he could give her the mail for that day. "I assume you got my rent payment?" she asked as Mr. Tyler turned back around, holding a couple of magazines and a small box, her keys rested on top. She didn't remember ordering anything, but it could always be one of those free samples that companies sent out to random people.

"That I did, Miss Rushman. It was right on time as per usual. You're better than most of my tenants here," he complimented. Natasha smiled a slight bit. It was nice to have some recognition from people once in a while, even though her past depicted otherwise. They didn't need to know how involved she was in the attack from two months ago. They didn't need to know that she was a master assassin. To her landlord and her neighbors, she was Natalie Rushman, rotary agent. She nodded a goodbye to Mr. Tyler and made her way to the elevator. As she waited patiently to reach the 20th floor, her curiosity got the better of her. She took her mail and put it under her arm, taking a hold of the tape on the box, and ripping it from the cardboard. She opened the flaps of the box and looked inside. What she saw was so surprising that she dropped the box onto the floor of the elevator. The contents popped out and landed right by the sliding doors. A pregnancy test.

Natasha unlocked her apartment door as quickly as she could. Her gaze darted back and forth down the hall, looking for people that might spy her with the test poking out of the cardboard box in her hands. Who sent it to her? What kind of prank were they trying to pull on her? Didn't they know who she was?

The door swung open and she stepped in, closing the heavy wood door behind her. Her stomach gurgled again at the smell of air freshener, and she dropped her purse and mail on the floor, running for the little trash can she kept in the conjoined kitchen. There she spilled her assets for the third time that day. Regaining her composure, she stepped back into the foyer. She covered her nose and mouth with one hand. Her other hand fell on her abdomen, and she looked at the spilled contents of the cardboard box on her floor. It couldn't be.

She couldn't even remember having sex in the past month; she hadn't even spent the night with Clint recently. She leaned down and picked up the smaller package, flipping it over so she could read the back of the box. Now that she thought about it…her period was late. She was one of many women who had irregular periods, but that didn't mean anything to her.

The pregnancy test wasn't a prank.

It was a tip-off, and a damn good one at that.

Meanwhile; in an Asgardian prison, a certain frost giant's smile grew larger.

Natasha pried open the box to the pregnancy test, letting the two little sticks fall into her open hand. She figured that two tests would be necessary, considering that the more modern editions had an extra test so that the person taking the test could be sure that the results were accurate. She stepped into the bathroom, connected to her bedroom, closing and latching her door behind her. Natasha sighed, rereading the instructions on the box. She silently pleaded that the test results would be negative. She had no time to be pregnant.

Natasha waited patiently for the results. The instructions told her to wait for three minutes, and by far it was the longest three minutes of her life. The seconds ticked by slowly, one by one. 90 seconds came and went. Natasha held her head in her hands. This wasn't fair. If she was pregnant, she didn't even know who the father was!

120 seconds, and Natasha had started up the second test. She didn't want to be here longer than necessary. She set the new one on the counter next to the first, and waited for her result. One pink line meant no and two meant yes. The seconds counted down, 10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1… Natasha peered at the test and her heart dropped into her stomach, her hands felt clammy and her thoughts raced through her mind at a million miles a minute. The display showed two pink lines. Natasha's legs failed her, and she collapsed to the floor.

Where would she go? How would she disappear off the face of the earth without alerting S.H.I.E.L.D? They had her on the radar for good, no matter where she went no matter what excuse she gave, they would find her again. There was no way out, none. It was over.

Her hands fumbled over her phone, and she looked for someone…anyone to call. All of her contacts had something to do with S.H.I.E.L.D or the Avengers. Pepper would tell Tony no doubt. Maria had constant contact with Director Fury. Clint would freak out; and Bruce Banner went off the map after the incident. There was no one she could call, no one she could rely on.

She was alone.

A/N: Guess who the papa is yet? Hehehehehe. I'm already working on Part 2, so I hope you enjoyed! Review please!