Motherhood and Apple Pie

Natasha had done a lot of unusual things during her missions. Being trained as a spy and as an assassin since she was a child had pretty much guaranteed that she had lived the most diverse situations. As a kid, during training, she once killed a man by pretending to be just a lost child in the street, crying and afraid, looking for her parents, only to assassinate her "rescuer" with a needle in the eye. She infiltrated a strip club once, as a young woman, and became so sought out because of her beauty and sensuality, that the club offered a closed doors performance to a group of Russian politicians, which then she proceeded to slaughter, alongside her bosses and her coworkers. And, maybe one of her most regretful jobs, there was the time she had to infiltrate Stark Industries as Tony's secretary, having to go as far as making some of her coworkers sick so she could have the "privilege" of taking documents directly to him, in order to be able to assess his personality for the Avenger's Initiative; that job still kept her up some nights.

Sitting at a table on a farm, eating a huge piece of apple pie, while being shown baby pictures of the alien she was pursuing by his adoptive mother was a new one, even to her.

"Look at how little he was!" cooed Martha, pointing at a particularly cute one, where Clark was sleeping in a crib.

Natasha, of course, knew what she was trying to do; it wasn't as if she was being subtle about it. She was a government agent pursuing an alien, not long after an alien invasion that left the world terrified. She was after a potential threat, someone who could be a danger to Earth and everyone on it.

Martha was providing her another perspective; it wasn't subtle, but it was effective.

"We were so relieved when he began to sleep peacefully like that," Martha continued. "We didn't know what to do before."

"Was he sick?" asked Natasha.

"How could we know, dear? He arrived in a spaceship. Clark might've looked human, but he wasn't one," she explained, serving Natasha another piece of pie. "The doctor thought that he might have something wrong with his hearing and did a test to see how well he was listening; Clark yelled so loud after that little click that every single glass object in the neighborhood broke, including car windows."

Natasha raised her eyebrows.

"Quite a pair of lungs," she remarked.

"Oh, you have no idea. He almost made us crazy in the beginning, crying loud enough to shake the house. He was a handful as a kid," Martha smiled, as if remembering the past. "Normal parents have to worry about their kids hitting their heads or choking on something; the things we had to worry about were slight different. When Clark was learning how to walk, for example, he fell down and hit the wall. Now, thank god he didn't hurt his head, but his head did hurt the wall; he made a hole and fell out of the house, we had to run through the door and around the house to pick him up."

Natasha couldn't help but smile, eating another piece of pie.

"And of course there was the time Jonathan had the brilliant idea of teaching him to play football. Clark tossed the ball so far that we never found it again. It probably left orbit," Martha laughed. "Ah, but I wouldn't trade that for anything."

"Weren't you afraid?" Natasha asked.

"Of course we were, but not from Clark. Dear, the one thing I wanted in this life was to be a mother," she said, placing her hand on top of her womb. "But nature was not so kind to me. I couldn't have a child. I prayed, every single day, so that I could have one; and one night, a baby boy descended from the sky, right in front of my house. If that wasn't an answer to my prayers, then I don't know what it was."

That rang particularly deep to Natasha. She also couldn't have children of her own, but not because nature was unkind to her; people were.

"Do you have a kid?" Martha asked, gently, seeing Natasha look at a baby picture.

"I can't be a mother," Natasha answered, almost inaudible, after a while.

Martha placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Being a mother is less about this," she said, touching softly Natasha's belly "and more about this, "she finished, touching her heart. "If giving birth was all it took to be a mother, there would a whole lot more happy families out there. Turns out it isn't. Family is more than sharing blood, dear."

Natasha was genuinely touched by what Martha said; and a little embarrassed because of that.

"You said you weren't afraid of Clark," she asked, because she was curious and to shift the conversation from her." What were you afraid of?"

Martha sighed.

"The government. Anyone that could take Clark away from us, really. The first few weeks we were sure someone would show up at our door, but no one ever came. Jonathan had a friend who managed to speed up the process of adoption and keep it quiet, but until that happened, well… We had a lot of tense days."

"And of course raising an alien couldn't have been easy," Natasha added.

She laughed.

"Oh, if only you knew!" Martha answered. "But I couldn't be prouder of the man he became."

That, Natasha could believe. Alien or not, Clark was Martha's son and she loved him more than anything. Usually, the love of a mother was a poor indicative of someone's character; every villain had a mother, after all, and they all usually loved their children regardless of what they did. But Martha did not look like a mother who would turn a blind eye to a son's bad decisions. Quite the contrary, actually. That bode well for her assessment of Clark.

While Natasha was thinking that, a loud sound thundered, like the sky was being split into two; she took her hand to the concealed pistol on her jacket.

"Don't be afraid, dear," Martha said, obviously noticing her alertness. "That's just Clark."

Was he arriving in a supersonic jet? What else could possibly make a sound like that? Her questions, however, went unanswered, as the sound disappeared and everything was silenced for a few seconds; until a voice came from the outside.

"Mom?!" and the door was pushed open with force.

Natasha's first thought was that Clark Kent was an imposing man. Much taller than herself, built with as much muscles as Thor or Steve, Clark walked into the house like a huge predator looking for a threat. His blue eyes crossed the room, fixing themselves on her and for one second, Natasha was actually frozen into place; it was a dangerous look, lacking the rage the Hulk had, but with the same promise of utter destruction to those foolish enough to challenge it.

He thought she was a threat to his mother, Natasha realized.

"Clark Joseph Kent!" exclaimed Martha, suddenly. "What do you think you are doing, bashing the door like this?"

Clark was obviously surprised, his eyes losing their intensity as he looked to his mother.

"But mom…?"

"No 'but'! We are having a civilized conversation here, there is no need to make a ruckus!"

Before her very eyes, Clark seemed to change completely. The force of pure destruction that had entered the house was no more; what she was seeing now was just a young man being lectured by his mother. The change was so absurd that she almost smiled, a mental image of the Hulk being grounded playing on her mind.

Chastised, Clark closed the door very carefully, and began to approach the table. He was a handsome man, with a very nicely sculpted face and a chiseled jaw. His eyes were extremely blue and his hair was dark, loose in a carefree way. Like she had already noticed, Clark was very tall and very well built, the kind of muscles Natasha had only seen on super-soldiers, Asgardians, or unbelievably trained agents.

All in all, Darcy Lewis's description of him as a "dark haired hunky blue eyed beefcake of a man" was spot on, on Natasha's humble opinion.

"Clark, this is Natasha Romanoff, as I am sure you already know," Martha introduced, as Clark got close to the table. "She wanted to ask some questions about that spaceship you took."

How that woman could make a SHIELD agent questioning about the hijacking of an alien ship sound exactly like "the principal called and told me what you did on school" Natasha didn't know; she imagined it had something to do with being a mother.

Clark looked at her, his expression a mix of surprise and resignation; he sighed.

"I'm sorry about entering like that," he apologized. "I was…"

"Scared about a known assassin alone with your mother?" Natasha finished.

"Well, yes, I guess. But I see I was wrong, so I apologize," he extended his hand. "I'm Clark Kent, as I'm sure you know, but call me Clark."

"Natasha Romanoff," she shook his hand.

Smiling, Martha pointed outside.

"Show her the farm, Clark. You two need to talk and I have another pie in the oven," she turned to Natasha. "But make sure to come back after your talk. You have to try the apple pie straight out of the oven, with my homemade vanilla ice cream."

That did sound good, Natasha couldn't help but think, before focusing on her mission again.

"I will, ma'am," she answered smiling, getting up and following Clark to the door.

Both of them got outside. It was a sunny afternoon, very pleasant, even if it a bit chilly. The Kent Farm was a beautiful place, with fields of green grass, apple trees everywhere, cows eating quietly and an honest to god windmill. It reminded Natasha of Clint's house, only without the kids running around.

At the same time Natasha observed the farm, however, she did observe Clark too. She didn't think he would run or attack her, that wasn't a concern. But she did want to learn as much as she could and there was a lot that could be interpreted by body language alone. Clark was nervous, that much was clear; she would even go as far as to say he was afraid, but doubtfully for himself. His mother then. A weak point, the Black Widow deep in Natasha's mind whispered, one that could be explored by someone with the intention of causing harm.

There was also the fact that he probably wasn't used to being recognized by what he was: an alien. It was something Natasha could understand, at least a little bit. Her entire life she hid in the shadows, never really letting anyone see her for what she was; until the shroud was removed during the Battle of New York. She had fought alongside the Avengers, under the bright daylight, in front of god knows how many witnesses and cameras. She was a celebrity now. Anyone knew who she was just by looking at her; worse yet, they knew what she was.

Of course, most of what she did would never be public, but being recognized on the streets, having action figures designed after her likeness and seeing children dressing up as her to play was still very disturbing.

Clark was feeling like that as well, she imagined. His entire life he had to hide what he was, hide what he could do, never being able to be completely honest with anyone out of fear; fear of rejection, yes, but also fear for his and his family safety. And now an agent from a spy organization had shown up at his doorstep.

"How did you find me?" Clark asked, suddenly, stopping by the side of a fence.

Natasha stood by his side, watching his face for a moment.

"The ship," she said, turning to look at the horses. "You saved Dr. Foster and Miss Lewis's lives and stole a ship being guarded by the military forces of two countries. It called attention."

He sighed.

"I imagined that. But how did you do it? I thought I had covered my tracks pretty well."

She smiled a little bit.

"You didn't make it easy. I talked with Dr. Foster and Miss Lewis, trying to profile you. I got a general description of your appearance and, more importantly, a general description of how you act. From there, I spoke with the manager of Arctic Cargo; he pointed me in the direction of Cassidy Pub, where he had hired you. There, I spoke with Chrissy."

"Chrissy… How is she?"

"She misses you," Natasha answered softly. "You know, there are worse things than settling down with a beautiful girl that likes you."

He smiled, sadly.

"There are," he agreed. "But she deserves someone who can give her a normal life. I… I can't do that."

He didn't say anything else, so Natasha took it as a signal to continue.

"Chrissy told me you moved from Cordova, so that was my next stop. And I almost lost you there. No paper trail at all, my compliments." He smiled at her little joke. "But, like I said, I managed to gather some of your behavior patterns. You helped people, everywhere you passed, no exceptions. So I looked for weird happenings, people being helped on unconventional ways."

"The oil rig," he supposed.

"The oil rig," she confirmed. "I managed to acquire footage of the event itself."

That surprised Clark.

"There was footage?" he asked, surprised.

"There is always a camera," Natasha said, pointing up. "Satellites make sure the entire world is always being watched. There was no way to tell it was you, but I knew what I was looking for."

"Right…" he said, obviously bothered.

"With the footage I managed to find the boat you were on, before you swam to the oil rig."

"The Debbie Sue," he said, smiling. "The pride and joy of captain Heraldson."

"The Debbie Sue," she nodded. "Captain Heraldson of course, had only the fake name you gave him. But he did remember you talking about a weird town" she imitated his rough voice:"'Tinyville, Smallcity… hell, Smallville! That's it!'"

He took his hand to his eyes.

"Yeah, he did have a good laugh when I told him that."

"Well, with that I came all the way here. Since I didn't have your name, I did the same thing I did on Cordova and looked for weird occurrences. There were quite a lot of them, but only one with a witness: Peter Ross, one of the students on the school bus that drove off a bridge and was saved by 'divine providence'."

"Pete… Is he still working at that IHOP?"

"He is. And he was the one who pointed me in the right direction, after I convinced him I wasn't a threat. I guess being a world famous hero has some perks."

Clark just kept staring at the horizon for a few seconds; then he turned to her.

"So… Now what? Am I under arrest?" he asked.

Natasha leaned on the fence by his side.

"Now, we get to know each other," she answered.

He eyed her.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," she confirmed. "I am not here to arrest you. Or to kill you. I doubt I would even be capable of that, given the things I already saw. I'm going to be honest with you, Clark: you are an unknown. And an incredibly powerful one, at that. If my boss had seen what you did at that oil rig, he would have an aneurysm."

Clark smiled, but there was no trace of happiness there.

"My father believed that if the world found out what I really was, they'd reject me. He was convinced that the world wasn't ready. I suppose he was right."

Natasha tilted her head.

"In my experience, the world is never ready for anything. Things just… happen. We try to be prepared, to be always one step ahead, but predicting everything is impossible. So we just learn to roll with it."

He didn't answer for a whole minute, just looking at the sun, thinking.

"I didn't even know that I wasn't human for most of my life," he said, abruptly. "I knew I was different, of course, but the thought that I wasn't human had never crossed my mind. What happened with the school bus? When I took the bus out of the water, Pete saw me. He was scared, so he told his mother. So she came here with him, telling my family that what happened was divine providence. A miracle. So I asked my father if she was right."

"What did he tell you?"

"He showed me the ship I arrived in. Told me I wasn't human at all. That somewhere else I had another father, who gave me another name, and that he had sent me here for a reason. And that I owed it to myself to find out what that reason was."

Clark fiddled with his shirt and took out a pendant; a weird black object around his neck.

"This was the only thing I had with me when I arrived," he said, showing it to her. It was a black prism, a few centimeters long, with an 'S' shape on one of the extremities. "No messages, no notes, just this. My father brought it to a friend, so he could analyze it, but the guy couldn't figure it out from what it was made of. Whatever it was, it was alien."

Natasha didn't say anything, she just kept listening, interested.

"After my father died, I went out in the world looking for clues. Anything that could give me a direction," he shrugged. "I found nothing. And for a while there I was really beginning to lose hope that I would. Until one day, this little thing here began to float."

"Float?"

"Yeah, spin, like a compass. Always pointing north. I didn't understand why it was doing that, since it never did anything before, but I had nothing to lose, so I began to travel north. Until I arrived on that very restaurant you were."

"Cassidy Pub."

"And when I was working there, I began to hear conversations about something the military had found in Ellesmere Island. Something under the ice. Something not of this planet. So I did what I could to get there."

"And you found the ship," Natasha stated.

He smiled.

"And I found the ship. Imagine my surprise when I found an entrance that fit my pendant precisely. And my astonishment when that seemed to turn on the ship and a man appeared out of nothing."

Natasha raised her eyebrows.

"Out of nothing?"

"A hologram, generated by the ship because of my pendant. That took the form of my biological father," Clark smiled, seeing the surprise on her eyes. "Yeah, shocked the hell out of me too. But in a good way. I had… so many questions, about what I was, where I came from, what I could do. Why was I sent here."

She was staring at him now, entranced with the story.

"Where do you come from?"

"I was born on a planet called Krypton," he answered. "It was the birthplace of an ancient and very advanced civilization. Long ago, in what they called the Era of Expansion, the Kryptonians spread out through the stars, seeking new worlds to settle upon. That ship on Ellesmere Island? It was one of thousands launched into the void. They built outposts on other planets, using great machines to reshape environments to their needs. And for 100.000 years, Kryptonian civilization flourished."

Natasha was unable to speak while listening to his tale, trying to imagine an empire with that magnitude.

"Eventually, however, they stopped," Clark continued. "The exploration was abandoned, the outposts left behind. The ships were called back. Artificial population control was established. Krypton had exhausted their natural resources."

"They just isolated themselves?" she asked.

"They tried to limit and control the use of the resources they had," Clark clarified. "But they did it poorly. Later on, somehow, they decided to mine the core of the planet, to get the resources they needed directly from there, even against the advice of Krypton's scientists."

"That doesn't sound good," Natasha summarized.

"No, it doesn't sound good at all," Clark agreed. "Instead of finding abundance of resources, they only managed to make the core unstable. It accelerated the decay of the planet; the core began to implode."

The picture Clark was painting was not a happy one. She imagined Clark was a member of a civilization like the Asgardian one, somehow stranded far away from home on a planet that was not his; by the looks of it, though, Clark didn't have a home planet anymore.

"Krypton…?"

"Krypton doesn't exist anymore," Clark confirmed, somberly. "What they did couldn't be stopped. My father, Jor-El, was one of Krypton's brightest scientists and he foresaw the calamity. He tried to convince the council to do something, to at least try to save some part of Krypton's heritage, but by that time one of Krypton's military leaders attempted a coup."

Clark looked at Natasha.

"My parents placed me into a spaceship at that very same day. Moments later, the man who attempted the coup, General Zod, murdered my father and was arrested, alongside his soldiers," he looked back at the horizon. "Krypton blew up not long after that."

Natasha could barely imagine something like that. As unique and detached from others as she was, Natasha was still surrounded by humans. Even after leaving her birthplace, Natasha was still standing in the same planet, with the possibility of visiting or hearing about it anytime she wanted to.

Clark was alone. The last son of Krypton. No home to come back to, no fellow Kryptonians to talk to, no knowledge about their culture. Utterly and completely alone in a world that was not his; Natasha didn't know anyone who could comprehend living like that.

"I am so sorry, Clark," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder; and she meant it.

He didn't look at her, but he acknowledged her with a nod.

"Thank you."

Both of them stayed in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the heat of the sun and the sounds of the birds.

"I don't know much about my past," Natasha said, breaking the silence. "I was taken when I was still a child to be trained as an assassin. My life before that… My home, my parents… They are just a bunch of images and feelings that I occasionally have when I dream."

She didn't know why she was telling him this. Maybe, in part, to share his burden. Maybe to share hers. Whatever the reason, it seemed to pick Clark's attention.

"They took you as a child?" he asked, clearly shocked. "That's…"

"Normal. The usual way. Kids are malleable. They learn faster and they don't question. Perfect to be trained."

"I was going to say 'awful', but I don't think it's enough to describe this," he corrected.

She smiled.

"That too," she agreed. "Anyway, what I meant by this is: don't think about what could've been. The life you could've had with your parents in Krypton, the life I could've had with my parents in Russia… They are but wishful thinking. What happened, happened; it's not going to change. What we can change is the future."

Clark considered her words and smiled.

"'The only direction in life that matters is forward.' I heard that one before."

"Then whoever told you that is wise, because they happen to agree with me," Natasha stated, smirking.

That seemed to lift his spirits, even if a little bit, so she decided to press on.

"What can you tell me about your abilities?" she asked, wanting a more detailed explanation of what he could do.

He considered his words for a moment.

"Krypton was a harsh place," he began "so life in there evolved just as harsh. When the first living organisms began to appear, Krypton was just a rock filled with ice, with a gravity way stronger than Earth's. So as time went on, the first animals adapted to survive these conditions, growing strong muscles and a dense skeleton. The cold and the lack of food were maneuvered by the ability to absorb radiation directly from the sun and use that energy."

Clark looked at Natasha.

"Earth's environment is much richer. The atmosphere is more nourishing, the gravity is weaker. The sun is younger than Krypton's sun, still strong, yellow and bright. My cells drink its radiation, strengthening my muscles, my bones, my skin and my senses. I'm stronger than a human by a wide margin. Quicker and much more resistant too. My senses are also more developed," he shrugged. "I've grown stronger here than even my father thought possible. And the truth is, I'm still getting stronger. So I can't really tell much about it, because I don't even know what I'm capable of."

If what he did with that oil rig was any indication, Natasha would put him just next to the Hulk in terms of raw strength; the fact that he was still getting stronger, however, made his potential impossible to measured. That was, frankly, difficult to swallow. One of those things that were, at the same time, amazing and frightening.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, you know," Clark said, as if he could hear her thoughts. "I have no intention of doing anything against the people of Earth. This is my home, Natasha. The people who took me in, who loved me and who I love back more than anything, are from this very planet. I'm not a threat to it."

She held his stare for a long minute.

"I believe you. But I'm not sure my superiors will. Not without some sort of guarantee."

"Such as?"

"Let me introduce you to my boss. He is one of the good guys, even if a little paranoid."

He appeared to be thinking about it.

"If I go with you, then I want something in return," he countered.

"What?"

"My name, my identity… I want you to promise me that the name 'Clark Joseph Kent' won't be put into SHIELD's system."

"What do you mean?"

"Natasha, if people know who I am, they'll know who my mother is. That can't happen."

"This is SHIELD. We are the good guys. We can protect her…"

"No."

She sighed, putting her hands on her waist.

"Those two women you saved in the ship? They were very important to Thor. Jane Foster is his lover. Darcy Lewis is his friend. When Loki attacked, we protected them."

"Do you trust everyone there, Natasha? Every single person in SHIELD?" he asked, suddenly; her silence was enough answer. "That's what I thought. Loki was an external threat. But what if someone from inside decides to threaten my mother? What if they think it's a good idea to use her to control me?"

Natasha wanted to tell him that would never happen, but that wouldn't be true. There were less than unsavory characters working for SHIELD, even if they were the good guys.

"Thor is the prince of a very powerful, very advanced civilization," he continued. "If someone threatens Dr. Foster, that can very well mean the beginning of a war you can't win, so it won't happen. I don't have that sort of pull. So if someone in there ends up putting my mother in risk…"

She raised her eyebrow, slowly.

"Is that a threat?"

He didn't back down.

"I won't kill anyone, Natasha. I don't do that sort of thing. But if someone inside of SHIELD puts my mother's life in risk, I will hold this person responsible. Even if I have to tear SHIELD down to do it. And there won't be enough places to hide, bunkers strong enough to defend them, armies big and well equipped enough to stop me. I will take them to prison, even if I have to build a prison with my own hands."

And the incredible thing was that Natasha believed him. His eyes when he arrived and entered his house, thinking she was a threat to Martha, appeared in her mind; eyes of someone who would not let a loved one be harmed. Not without retribution. She didn't know if he could win a fight like that against the entirety of SHIELD's forces, but it wasn't something she was willing to bet on.

Not only because it didn't make sense to antagonize him, but because she only put her money on what she was sure she could win.

Fury might not like it, but it was certainly doable. Clint was a living example of that; his family's safety and anonymity was one of the things he demanded to work for them.

"Okay, that can be arranged. What should I tell them?" she questioned.

"You can tell them everything, except my name. Instead, tell them my name is Kal-El. That way, my human identity and my mother are safe."

"Kal-El?" she repeated, rolling the name on her tongue.

"My birth name," he explained. She nodded in response and looked at him; his blue eyes were staring at her. "I'm choosing to trust you," he said, his voice serious. "Don't let me down."

Natasha nodded, having no intention of betraying his trust. She would share this with Fury only and he would, most definitely, trust her judgment as he did before. SHIELD didn't really have anything to lose with this. They would still know who Clark was, even if his identity wasn't in the system. Clark knew that, no doubt. So even if he went against his own word and "pulled a Loki", he knew that his mother would be at risk.

She didn't like that and she wouldn't hurt an innocent, but the possibility of that happening would keep Clark honest, even if that put a bad taste on her mouth.

"Okay, then, we a have deal" Natasha said, raising her hand; he shook it. "Now, about that ship…"

"No," he answered quickly. "That ship is the only thing I have from Krypton. It belongs to the House of El."

Natasha knew that was true, but technically she was there because of the ship.

"The army is going to whine non-stop in my ears," she sighed.

He at least had the decency to look apologetic.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't trust those guys with that kind of technology," he explained. "Not after what you did with the Tesseract."

Natasha turned fast as lightening.

"How do you know about the Tesseract?" she asked, sharply.

Clark met her eyes, not looking concerned in the least.

"Why do you think that after 20.000 years of silence, the ship began to emit a distress signal?" he asked. "Someone, either the army or SHIELD, messed with things they didn't understand. The Tesseract is an Infinity Stone. It has more than enough power to crack this planet like an egg and you guys played with it. The radiation that escaped from it could probably be felt light years from here, to those who knew what they were looking for. The Kryptonians, obviously, knew. The ships on the Era of Expansion were equipped to search for them, either to acquire them or to keep someone else from doing it."

He was still looking at her.

"So if you think that I'll give them more technology to be misused, well, you're wrong."

Clark lowered his eyes, but Natasha didn't, his words still ringing on her ears. She knew the Tesseract was dangerous, she knew that messing with it was a risk, but the things he was saying were new to her. She looked into his eyes and asked:

"What is an Infinity Stone?"

Natasha did not expect him to turn to her that quickly, flabbergasted.

"Oh, boy…"

Nothing gave Nick Fury quite as much satisfaction as seeing the pieces of his projects coming together, like one big puzzle slowly completing itself. Of course, the nature of his job meant that it was a never ending puzzle, sometimes with not enough pieces, sometimes with pieces that didn't fit at all and had to be discarded.

And, of course, there were times when a bunch of aliens just appeared out of nowhere and kicked the whole thing into the fire.

But, for now, things were doing great. Stark was actually being useful, not only defeating Aldrich Killian and destroying that AIM nonsense he created, but also helping design the repulsor engines of the new Helicarriers, making sure they didn't need to land anymore once launched; Steve Rogers was acclimatizing as well as he could to the modern life, learning about the new technologies and tactics with an impressive speed and soon he would be able to lead STRIKE Unity; Dr. Banner didn't have an episode in a long while and was apparently putting his big brain to use alongside Stark in a whole lot of projects; Barton, as always, continued to be one of his most dependable agents, and was in the process of arresting the criminals involved in that mutant factory, together with Maria Hill and Captain Rogers.

And now, Natasha Romanoff finally contacted him to report about their missing alien.

Things were good and Fury couldn't help to be happy while he looked at the horizon from the window of his office in the Triskelion. At the back of his head, though, there was always that little voice saying that if things were too good, it wouldn't take long for something to go wrong…

There was a knock at his door and, before he could say anything, it opened; there were only a few people crazy enough to do that and he was only expecting one of them.

"Miss Romanoff, I'm glad you're back," he greeted her, turning to see the red headed agent walking to his table; except she was walking slowly and with a hand in front of her stomach. That surprised him. "Are you injured?"

She waved her hand, sitting down.

"No, I just ate too much," she answered.

That surprised him even more; if there was one thing she was famous, besides her beauty and ability to kill people, it was her self-control.

"You ate too much?" he asked, expecting her to clarify.

"Apple pie and vanilla ice cream," she said. "Turns out the mother of our missing alien is one hell of a cook."

He leaned over the table, eye fixed on her.

"What?!"

She sighed.

"I found him," she began to explain. "I will give you a full report later, but let me tell right now that he is not a threat."

"How can you be sure of that?"

"Because I met him. I met his mother. He's been living on Earth since he was a baby. He is practically a human, at least in behavior."

Fury sat down in front of her.

"What is he? Asgardian?"

"He is a member of a race called Kryptonian. He is the last Kryptonian. His parents sent him here when he was a baby because their planet reached the end of its cycle. It exploded."

The last member of an alien race, living under their noses during all his life. The only thing making Fury hold his temper was the fact that there wouldn't be another Kryptonian coming to Earth, not like those damn Asgardians. But when he found the sector of SHIELD that let this go unnoticed, heads would roll.

"So, what can you tell me about him?"

Natasha sat straighter.

"He is a good guy, sir. He's been helping people in every single place he passed through. We are definitely not looking at another Loki. Not even another Thor. This one is unique: an alien that considers Earth his home and was raised by human parents."

"How did they even find him?"

"It was the other way around. His ship landed on their farm. They took care of him."

"By hiding him and breaking god knows how many laws."

"Well, sure, but I think it was better for all of us that this particular alien got to be raised by these people. His mother is a good woman, sir. She and his father raised him well."

Fury sighed. He did not like when things like these happened. Being the last one to hear something was as rare as it was dangerous; but he trusted Romanoff. If she was saying this alien was raised by good people, he would believe her.

"So, not a threat then?" he asked.

"Not a threat, psychologically speaking," she confirmed. "But… He is gifted. His kind, apparently, is very powerful. So I recommend a lot caution when dealing with him."

Fury stared at her.

"How powerful are we talking about here?" he asked, already feeling a headache.

Natasha didn't disappoint.

"Physically, he is probably as strong as the Hulk," Fury held his breath. "He is much faster than him, though. He is resilient, resistant enough to survive the explosion of an oil rig right in his face and the whole thing falling on top of him, without a scratch to show. His senses are much more enhanced than ours. His body can absorb solar radiation and then liberate it in the form of energy beams from his eyes, hot enough to melt steel. And he can fly fast enough to break the sound barrier."

Nick Fury was incapable of speech at the moment. He could only stare at Romanoff, unmoving, his mind working overtime to comprehend the kind of being they were dealing with. That was absurd, it was his conclusion. No one could have power like this. No one should. They were talking about a being that could, very likely, fight entire wars by himself and win. A being as strong as the gods of legend. A being with the potential to be the greatest threat this world had ever seen.

He didn't have words to even describe the level of risk this being represented.

"Sir, I know what you're thinking…" she started.

"Do you, Romanoff? Do you really?" he interrupted.

"Yes, I do. You are thinking that we are about to face a threat bigger than Loki and the Chitauri. A threat too high to be properly quantified."

"Well, apparently you do know what I'm thinking, then."

"Yes, but you are wrong," she declared.

"Am I? Really?"

"Sir, this man might be powerful. Too powerful even. But he is good," she looked in Fury's eye. "You trusted me all this time to evaluate threats; please, trust me now when I'm saying that this is not one."

She got up and went around the table, leaning on to type in his keyboard.

"This man has been helping people for all his life," she continued, while typing. "And I mean that almost literally; he's been doing this since he was a kid. He helped people from car accidents, fires, drowning, murderers, robbers… He even saved a whole lot of people from being unwillingly turned into mutants."

Natasha pointed to his monitor, where the front page of the New York Bulletin was being shown. Fury took a second to understand what she meant, before reading the name of the author.

"Clark Kent," he looked at her. "He is the alien? He's been there, in New York?"

"Yes. Doing the same thing we do: saving people," she went back to her chair and sat down. "Fury, Clark is not a threat to us or to anybody. But he is not asking you to believe in him. He is just asking for time to prove himself. Let's give him that."

"And why would I wait for a bad situation to happen, Miss Romanoff?" he asked, wanting to hear her answer.

"Because this 'bad situation' might not happen at all. But if we attack him, if we make him an enemy, than he will have no choice but to be one. We have the chance to gain a powerful ally, if we play the right cards; but if we play the wrong ones, we will definitely gain a powerful enemy. I say we wait."

That was why Fury liked Romanoff; she could keep things in perspective quite well. And he did trust her. Few people could read someone like she could and if she had seen something in this 'Clark Kent', then maybe it was worth waiting to see.

Even if he could feel an ulcer already forming.

"Okay, we do it your way," he finally said. "But things go wrong, and it is your neck. Understood?"

"Of course," she answered, as if she didn't expect anything else.

"And I want to meet him."

"That… can be arranged," she said, slowly, and Fury just knew she had something else to throw at him. "But I made a deal with him in exchange of that."

Fury held his head and sighed.

"Tell me."

"His name, 'Clark Kent'… It can't go into the system. It stays between us."

"And what do I tell the World Security Council, Romanoff? That the alien has no name?"

"Tell them his name is Kal-El. That's his Kryptonian name. He is afraid for his mother, sir, and it's not like we'll lose anything by doing this."

No, they wouldn't, that was true. But it was something they could have used to bargain later.

"Okay, done. And what about the ship? When is he giving it back?"

He did not like Natasha's face right then.

"About that… He is not."

"God damn it, Natasha!"

"He has good reason! Sir, that whole thing we did with the Tesseract, developing weapons with it? He doesn't want that to happen with his ship. It is the only thing he has from his planet. It belongs to him."

"Oh, I'm sure the World Security Council will just love that! I can just imagine that conversation going: 'Yeah, about that ship capable of unquantified levels of destruction? It's a cultural heritage; we can't take it from him.'"

"Well, then tell them that because of what they did with the Tesseract, we might have bigger problems. And it's their fault."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about something Thor apparently forgot to tell us; have you ever heard about the Infinity Stones?"