Kara strode briskly from the university's library to her rental car. As usual, the visit to the research archives had been a waste of time. No one had gotten as far as she in identifying the genetic differences that contributed to paranormal abilities in human beings. Damn. Sometimes she hated being a trailblazer.

Her steps slowed as she noticed a compactly built, dangerous looking man standing by her car. His medium brown hair had a tendency to curl, and his dark blue eyes were sharp and cold. He was standing easily, his posture that of a seasoned martial artist - ready for anything. She stretched out her senses...he was anticipating, nothing more ominous than that. There was no sense of danger or overt aggression coming from him, just readiness. "Dr. Gunnarssen?" he questioned as she approached, and held up a government-type ID.

Kara's heart sank. The ID bore the logo of S.H.I.E.L.D., the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. It had only been a matter of time before they investigated her; she knew that her activities would not go unnoticed forever. But she had hoped that their recent problems with extraterrestrial invaders would have put her case on the back burner. Apparently, no such luck. "What can I do for you," she asked, squinting to read the man's name, "Agent Barton?"

"We need you to come with us. All will be explained when we reach our destination."

"No, thank you. I have work to do. Have a nice day," she said, dodging around him.

He took a quick step back and to the side, cutting her off from her vehicle. "Sorry, ma'am. That was not a request."

She sighed. At least he was being polite about it. So far. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

Agent Barton had led her to a nondescript sedan, typical of government agencies. That car had taken them to a heliport and a sleek aircraft that looked like a combination of helicopter and jet. Not so typical. A ramp dropped down from the back of the craft, revealing a slim woman with a dark red bob. Another redhead, lovely. She'd have to keep her own temper in check as this woman looked like she meant business.

"Welcome aboard, Dr. Gunnarssen," the woman greeted with a barely discernible accent. "I'm Agent Romanov, I'll be your pilot."

"Romanov? Not Romanova?"

The agent shrugged. "Most Americans wouldn't understand the difference; it's easier to use what they expect to hear."

"Ah. I understand. I get tired of explaining that my name is double 's' and an 'en', rather than the more common 'son'. But I'm too stubborn to just let them be mistaken."

Agent Romanov chuckled briefly. "It's not worth my annoyance. Of course, I rarely use my own name, so it likely doesn't come up as much as it does for you."

"No doubt." Kara lapsed into silence as Agent Romanov walked to the front of the craft, pulled on a headset, and began moving levers and hitting buttons. She turned as Agent Barton touched her arm and pointed to a seat with a harness. Sitting, she followed his example and connected the straps. The vessel lifted swiftly and she was pressed hard into the padding as it shot forward. Long minutes passed as Kara tried to ignore Agent Barton's assessing stare. She could feel a muscle begin to tick in her jaw as the pressure of his attention began to get to her. "Please stop staring at me. It's very annoying." He didn't respond, but he did turn his eyes elsewhere and she sighed in relief.

... ...

Hawkeye studiously looked anywhere but at their target. If even half of the reports on her abilities were true, he didn't want to piss her off. Even if they weren't, and she was asked to help them just with therapy for the rash of PTSD cases resulting from the invasion, he didn't want to alienate her...thanks to that misbegotten excuse for a god, Loki, he was one of many who could use her services. He glanced up to the cockpit where Nat skillfully guided them towards the waiting Helicarrier. Her instruments would lock onto and decode the carrier's guidance signal, enabling them to find it while it was cloaked. Clint risked a peek back at the doctor. Her red hair was a myriad of shades, running from the dark burgundy that the Black Widow sported, all through the range of reds and gingers. It looked like a living flame. Wouldn't that be appropriate? Hmm, the woman had her hazel eyes squeezed tightly closed and was rubbing her forehead. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"What? No...I..." Dr. Gunnarssen's voice trailed off as she looked out the front of the Quinjet. "Why are we slowing, there's nothing out there...is there?" She was blinking, frowning, and then cocked her head in what he would have called a listening attitude if there had been anything to hear. "I could swear..." her voice trailed off again. She looked confused for a moment more and then her jaw dropped.

He turned his head to see what had surprised her. The Helicarrier's docking bay was opening and the interior was now visible to the naked eye. Hawkeye suppressed a grin. Looked like at least parts of the reports were accurate. "Felt the people, huh?" he asked.

The doctor frowned at him. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked, sounding as annoyed as she looked.

He let the grin emerge. "Not a thing, Doc."

... ...

Kara seethed as she was led down a complex system of corridors in the huge airship. She'd managed to betray herself, at least a bit. But that was all they were getting. There were a lot of sensitives out there. They made an abrupt turn into a conference room where a bald man of African ancestry stood, hands clasped behind his back, a black patch covering his left eye. "Dr. Gunnarssen," he began. "I'm Director Fury, thank you for consenting to visit us."

Another bit of politeness that she wasn't inclined to accept. "I wasn't aware that I was given an option to refuse."

Director Fury ignored her comment and gestured to a chair. "Please, have a seat. You've met Agents Barton and Romanov, I trust?" She nodded and he directed her attention to a man already seated at the table. "This is Dr. Banner; he'll be sitting in on this meeting."

She frowned at the scientist. Of course she had heard of him. Everyone in the scientific community was talking about his work with genetics and gamma radiation...particularly after the accident several years back. He sat there, smiling amiably, his deep brown hair tousled and his wire-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose. He looked every inch the absent minded professor. Nodding, she held out her hand to him. "Dr. Banner, a pleasure...even under the circumstances."

His smile widened as he took it. "Likewise. I enjoyed your paper on chromosomal irregularities. It was very insightful."

Fury cleared his throat. "Let's get down to business." Kara sighed and dropped into the indicated seat and folded her hands in her lap. She still was not picking up anything worthwhile from any of them. Someone had taught them shielding techniques and had taught them well. Oh, wait. She glanced down the table and saw a small device with a red LED. They were using some sort of energy disruption signal. The director followed her gaze and smiled grimly, his one eye narrowing. "So, Dr. Gunnarssen, we've been...aware of you for quite some time. Your recent work with veterans suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder has made a singular impression with the Division."

Wait...this wasn't about her abilities, it was about her therapy results? "I-I'm flattered that my work has been noticed."

"Noticed, discussed and speculated about. The suicide rate in your patients is dramatically lower than the average rate among highly at-risk individuals receiving such therapy. We're wondering if your unique abilities are responsible."

Damn. "I don't know what..."

"Don't go there, doctor. As an organization whose mission affects global security, we have access to your sealed juvenile records. Unfortunately, a lot of what is in those records is rumor, supposition, and a very few eye-witness but circumstantial reports. We need the facts. First, are you or are you not an empath?"

Kara sighed. "I am a highly sensitive empath, and yes, that helps immensely in my therapy sessions."

"Good, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?" She glowered at him. "Next, are you, or are you not a projective empath?" Kara compressed her lips and stared straight ahead. The director sighed. "Don't want to answer. Okay, I can understand your reluctance. How about this one? Are you, or are you not a pyrokinetic?"

... ...

"What would make you think any such thing?" Dr. Gunnarssen countered.

Fury bit back a grin. Now they were getting somewhere. "Doctor, in addition to your juvie files we have eyewitness reports from CDF firefighters. During wildfires in various parts of California over the past few years, backfires have mysteriously started, burned a sufficient amount of scrub and tall grasses to form a fuel-free border to prevent the spread of an encroaching wildfire to residential areas, and then have just as mysteriously been extinguished. There was no evidence of either an accelerant or any fire-extinguishing material at any of the scenes. More to the point, a woman meeting your description, and in two cases driving a rental car that had been rented in your name, was seen leaving four of the locations."

Dr. Gunnarssen swore softly. "And I thought I'd been so careful." She gave him a hard look. "So, why are you investigating me? Last I checked, firefighting wasn't a crime."

Fury allowed his smile to emerge. "You mistake us, doctor. This isn't an investigation. This is a recruitment."