Hello, and welcome to the sequel to My Past Hides From Me. This installment shall run parallel to Agents of Shield (which is why it isn't categorized under Avengers), but will eventually deviate into an original plot (unless I chose that plot for a third installment. It depends on how people like this, and how the AOS season pans out.) But the main difference between this and the last installment is that I plan to incorporate other POVs, which will be drastically different stylewise. But we're not there yet. For now, welcome to My Past Lies to Me.

"Today is day 1 of my 30 day mandatory psychological journaling. Recording. Whatever. I mean, I've been working for SHIELD for months now, but now I have to talk to a microphone for a month about my problems. At least I don't have to directly talk to a therapist. I just have to ramble and then they have to eventually sit through hours of my rambling. Sorry. It must suck to be you.

Ok, what do I talk about now? Ok, the paper they gave me says I should talk about what's happened after the Battle of New York. All right, then. Fine. I fought in the battle. We won. My wing mangled. I got hired by SHIELD. I got basic training as a crash course. I started treatments for my wing, which helps but is really annoying. I started in as an agent with Natasha as my CO. Agent Romanova to you people. Her old partner Clint- err.. Agent Barton has been out of the field since the battle. He's a cool dude. Funny. To bad Loki messed his brain up. Ok, what else happened? A bunch of missions. Kicking ass and taking names. Super classified though so hush hush.

So yeah. I spend most of my time training or going on a mission with Nat. Up until a few days ago. The voice decided to be an invasive little bastard while I was on a plane back from a mission over in England. We were helping with some of the cleanup after Thor's visit. I had to help chase down the weird animals. I think they were just trying to get rid of Nat and I, but whatever. Back to the main point. After leaving, the voice decided to give me a brain attack. The last one had been during the battle of New York, so the fancy therapist people thought it was a fancy side effect of PTSD. Which I so clearly have. Anyways, back to the point. Brain attack. Except it didn't give me anything too special. Except my flo- my old family. Grown up. Happy. Alive. But I know that's not true. And in this, I was with them. But different. Happier. Less scarred. And while I've wishing for years for them to still be alive but-"

Aaaaand there's a knock on my door. I sigh and pause the recorder. "I'm coming, just give me a minute." I stretch as I stand up, and wince as I pull my wings back up close to my body. While they had been healing super quickly and some of my feathers had been growing back in, they weren't fully back and I still needed to have synthetically created feathers implanted for the ones that wouldn't come back at all. Those ones don't grow back. And I still wasn't cleared for flying.

When I opened the door, there stood Clint. "Been reduced to messenger boy?" I teased, crossing my arms.

He smirked, "Only for you. Anyone else would get a post-it on an arrow."

"Even Nat?"

"Nat would be getting me, not the reverse."

I gave a small laugh, "Ok, who needs me this time? I sure as hell hope it's not the therapists again."

"Nope. A top-secret strike team is going in after Centipede. I heard for sure that that guy that we took in from them, Peterson, is going in. I may have also heard your name as well. I don't know. I think that might be slightly above your clearance level." I groan. He really loves pulling the 'higher clearance level' thing.

"Do you know who's leading the team?"

Clint grinned, "Come on, let's go and find out."

"Agent Ride"

I stood quietly in front of Agent Hill. I'm not very good yet at not using sarcasm, so I usually just keep very quiet in situations like these.

"You will be joining recruit Peterson as backup to a strike team running point in our current investigation of centipede. This team is being run by Agent Coulson, who will soon be arriving to pick you and Peterson up. You will follow all orders given to you, and you are not cleared for individual flight except in life or death situations. Should this mission go well, you might remain on as a permanent member of that team."

My eyes were wide. My 'stay silent' routine just did an acrobatic fucking pirouette out the window.

"Did you say Agent Coulson? As in killed-by-the-same-dude-that fucked-up-my-wing-Coulson?"

Agent Hill rolled he eyes. "Yes. That Coulson. Here was revived shortly after being seen to by a medical team."

I raised an eyebrow, "So you lied to us during the battle?

"Director Fury felt it would be best to lie to all of you, in order for you to become more unified against Loki and the Chitauri. And he was right. No more comments on this matter, and you will not share this information with any of the other Avengers. Now, go suit up so you're ready to leave."

I nodded, too angry to trust my mouth. As, I walked back to my bunks to change and pack, I couldn't help but think about what else SHIELD kept from me. Were there any other secrets about the battle of New York? About my fellow agents? About me or my origins? I never told them my full story, but I don't trust that they don't know it.

It was that moment where I fully realized that, while I do work for SHIELD, I don't trust any of the things they'd ever told me.