Originally brought in for the repair project of NY, Agent Hayden Caldwell wakes up injured and without her memory of the last three months. An overworked doctor doesn't believe her to be an agent with powers so she gets thrown into the mental health care system. Confused and angry, Hayden starts to wonder if her life was all a lie when someone from her past hunts her down. The Avengers can save the world from evil but can they save one of their own? Pairings. Mainly Bruce/OC. Loki/OC, Pepperoni, Clint/Natasha, Steve/OC. Rated T for now. I might change it to M in later chapters.

AN: This is my first fanfic. Please review and tell me what you like or don't. A shout out to Hikiri for helping me by being my human spell checker. She writes under the anime genre if that tickles your fancy, check her out! She's awesome! I don't own any of the Avenger characters just the OC's.

Chapter 1: I'm Not Crazy

Waking up in a snow bank during a freaking blizzard in the dead of night, or morning, is not my idea of a good time. What makes it worse, I have no idea how I got here. Oh not to mention, I am not exactly dressed for the weather. I'm wearing black stiletto heals, tights, a skin-tight black dress, and a coat that could pass for a shower curtain in density. Yeah, I may look hot, if I do say so myself, but this is so not the time to be doing a runway show. Well, if you look beyond the odd-shaped cuts that are scattered across my arms and legs and are at various stages of healing with dirt caked on so many layers that you can't even see my fair ivory skin anymore. Not to mention, my usual waist length honey blond curly hair is matted to my head as if I haven't washed it in 3 weeks. I am beyond freezing, soaking wet, dead tired, in pain, and have no idea where I am. To say I am a little pissed is an under statement, not to mention confused.

I start to look around, trying to find some shred of evidence that can point me the direction of some serious ass kicking. Luckily, I am close enough to civilization that I can see my surroundings due to the traffic lights bouncing off an unknown building near by. Unfortunately, I can't seem find a single creature in this snow-covered hell I woke up in. Plus the storm is covering everything up. Taking in the area, I realize I am sitting, ha lying, in the middle of a construction site. "What the hell!" I exclaim, quite loudly to myself as I feel a sense of dread and panic come over me.

How did I get here? Why am I here? Why can't I seem to remember anything? Dam it is cold out. I should really get up. When did it start snowing? Last I knew it was September. Did winter come early? Ugh, I hate snow. I've been through worse. I can do this. Nothing like giving myself a little positive self talk to start my day. Oh God, what is that smell?!

As I attempt to stand, I feel sharp pain traveling from my right foot into my leg faster than a Mach 5 fighter jet during lift off. I start to walk the 315 feet, more like clamber, towards the faint sounds of the voices coming from the street as dizziness obscures my vision. As I step down with my stable left foot, black ice plays a cruel joke and I end up falling back into the offending snow bank that started this all. "If I could just reach the university sized building…" I mumble to myself. I tenderly touch my rainbow-colored ankle. Yeah, not the best idea I had since waking up in this nightmare.

Jesus that hurt. I am going to need some crucial TLC once this day is over. Once I am home, I am changing into sweat pants, a hoodie, and some fuzzy socks. Man, what was I thinking? A dress? Wait, why am I wearing a dress when it is like the North Pole outside? Seriously, what is that smell?

Looking to my left, I see the source of the pungent odder. A Craptastic's port-a-potty is 100 yards to left of me. Laughing hysterically, I realize how terrible this day, err, night has become. I mean, I wake up in a blizzard with no memory of how I got here and I am lying next to a construction sites form of a bathroom.

Ugh, I have no luck. In my career choice, an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, I have been in many unfortunate and deadly situations throughout my 4 years at the agency but I usually remember every detail, every minute, as if I am trying to memorize time in the events that I am partaking in. I have no recollection of how I got here though or who did this to me, which is concerning in itself. I don't know what to make of this situation other than I need to get out of here alive.

Where is my phone? I need to call Coulson. He will send someone to get me. I NEED my phone. It has everything in there, my contacts, my bank information, my life! Shit, did I lose it again? I wonder how close I am to my apartment. I really need to change. Ugh I so need to get out of here. I need a plan.

I check my coat for my back up GPS locator, which I have to use more times than I am proud of. Nothing. Just an insurance card, a driver's license, and a bank card all wrapped in a wad of four 20.00 dollar bills. Glimpsing at the Connecticut driver's license, I note that even though it has most of the same information and my picture is the same to mine, the name is different.

My name is Hayden Elizabeth Caldwell. Not this Jessica Marie Smith person. How generic is that? I don't have anything against the name but who is she? Where does she work? How does she act? Apparently, she lives in Connecticut but I live in NY. Manhattan to be exact. Granted I'm from London originally, but that doesn't matter. WHAT IS HAPPENING? Let me check everything else. Birthday is still May second. Age is still 29, even though I feel 50 years older sense waking up here. The visa and insurance card have the same Jessica name on them. I don't understand. I'm so confused. Sometimes I hate this life.

Throwing the cards into the snow as I pocket the money, I'm blond not stupid, as I try to figure out how to get out of this mess without further panic on my part. Looking around at the current stillness of the night, I figure the way I will get any answers will be from the building I saw earlier. I attempt, yet again, to stand and leave this personal hell that this day is fast becoming. I hear my sore ankle make a crisp snap as it protests my weight.

Oh you've got to be kidding me! Breathe. Breathe...BREATHE. Please, don't make me throw up on myself. That would be the icing to my arsenic filled cake. Oh yeah, B-R-E-A-T-H-E! Take a deep breath in, hold it, and out.

I repeatedly take deep breaths as I fall back, blindly attempting to grab at anything to break my fall. The overwhelming pain and nausea pulls me into a black haze of oblivion as my left shoulder connects with a frigid piece of plastic. The last thing I notice before I pass out is the pasty snow whipping around the Craptastic port-a-potty and gust towards the building I was trying to reach.

Hours Later:

"Miss Smith? Can you hear me? Miss Smith?"

An unknown voice wakes me from the cold oblivion I sunk into. "Where am I?" I mumble as I open my eyes to harsh florescent lights. "You're in the emergency room, Miss Smith. I'm Doctor Melvin Ventido. I have treated you for the past 2 hours. You gave us a scare. Do you want to tell us why you were laying, passed out in a pile of snow when it's below freeing outside?" Looking over myself, I see that I have crisp bandages covering about half of my body, a cast on my right foot, and a stupid hospital gown that covers me less than the dress did. "Miss Sm-" "That's not my name!" I respond sharply to the doctor as I drag my hands over my face and rub my eyes, hoping to erase the snow bank incident from my memory like it was just a distant nightmare. Razing his eyebrows to the point that they disappear underneath his midnight bushy hair, he reaches for a neon blue plastic bag that must contain my personal belongings. "Well, MissSmith, you did come in with identification that has your picture on it. Driver's license, insurance, and a credit card. They were scattered next to you in the snow but luckily the supervisor to the construction site got in early today and saw you passed out and brought you in here. That is you, is it not?" Staring down at the license photo ID, I inspect the picture more intently then when I was outside hours ago.

I don't understand. It's me in the picture. I remember the shirt because it was my favorite and I would wear it every chance I got. It was a flowing cotton material and deep ocean blue that turned my gray eyes lighter into an almost stormy color. And my mom's necklace. It's the locket with the picture of my grandparents on one side and my parent's wedding day picture on the other. It was one of the few pieces of jewelry she wore. She gave it to me when in her will after she died when I was 7. I never take it off. Is it possible to be so disoriented that you can have an aneurism? Well, at least I am in the right place. Ugh, it's going to be a long night, err…day?

Reaching towards my neck, I feel the familiar gold chain of the necklace as I shuffle through "my" insurance card and visa that has the same Jessica name on it. Flabbergasted, I look around the room in an attempt to ground myself back into reality. "You also had 80.00 dollars in that thing you call a coat but I must recommend, as your doctor, that if you're going outside in December when it is 20 degrees outside and snowing, I believe it would be best if you wore some more heavy weather appropriate clothing. Now back to my original question. Why were you-?"

"Wait a minute did you say December?" I shriek as my brain challenges to comprehend the gap in my memory from the past 3 months. "Where am I? As in what town?" because I have no clue nor do I have any idea how I got here. Taking a deep breath, I can watch as Dr. Ventido chanted whatever mantra he uses to keep himself calm when he has to deal with patients that don't bow down to his unspoken set of rules.

"What time is it?" I ask. "What day is it?"

Why isn't he answering me? Did he say December? Why can't I remember? No this isn't happening again. Why didn't anyone try to find me? Did they even try? Awe man, I missed Tony and Pepper's Thanksgiving. I'd kill for some of Pep's Mac and Cheese right now. Holy meatballs, I need to focus. I have to deal with this prick of a doctor first.

Ignoring me, Dr. Ventido continued his line of questioning; not caring that I am asking questions of my own "Did you have anything to drink last night? Do any drugs? Miss Smith!" I watch as the doctor makes notations on my chart and passes it to some chick standing near the door. "What are you writing?" I challenge, asking in my most inhospitable voice but it comes out more like a squirrel with laryngitis. "Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about." He sneered at me, as he looks at his watch as if he is late for a significant romantic occasion and I am in his way.

So this is how we're going to play it, okay. It's not my fault you haven't gotten laid since you lost your virginity. Why don't you hit up one of the nurses or are you too egotistical for that? I'm so out of here.

I hear "Miss Smith?" as I attempt to get out of the bed, hopping on my good foot while I hold the gown closed in the back, preserving what little dignity I have left. A nurse appears out of nowhere, who should have retired 10 years ago, rushing to my side as she exclaims "Now, Jessica. Where are you going? Just lay back right there. That's good girl" She smiles down at me as she tucks me back into the bed. I don't know why but I have the strongest urge to cry. "That's enough! We just got your body temperature back to normal; you need at least 2 more bags of fluid to prevent further dehydration and not to mention you had many lacerations across your torso that was infections." Dr. Ventido barks as he frowns at me from the top of the bed. "Do you want to continue to play this game or do you want to tell us why you were laying outside in a snow storm in party dress?"

This is going to go over well. I got the Grinch without the happy ending for a doctor and grandma as a nurse. Not to mention some silent lurker dude who just appeared by the door. Where did summer time Barbie go? No, no, more like Nurse Barbie. I bet the doctors LOVE working with her. Yeah, this is going to go over fan-freaking-tastic. Well, here goes nothing.

"Miss-"

"Yeah, well here is the thing." I look around at my audience, the only thing I hear is the blood pressure cuff hissing as if a violent snake was warning me to keep my mouth shut. "The last thing I remember is that I was I undercover. I was at some party in New York City and I had to get information for my boss. It was September 28th and I know for a fact is it wasn't snowing then." Looking around at everyone as the room falls into complete silence, I wait until one of them says something.

"You're a cop?" The Grinch spits out, disbelieving.

"Sorta."

"Oh I get it." Grandma try's next. "You're with the FBI."

"No."

Grandma completion pales as she backs up and guesses "You're not CIA. Are you?'

Oh bless this old lady's soul! I might as well tell them. What is Coulson going to do? I could use my cover but I am a terrible liar and that's why I am never out in the field unless it is my area of expertise. After this, I am never going out in the field again. Nah, it should be fine. Confidentially, doctor patient privilege and all that crap. Or I can get Fury down here to scare the shit out of them and they will never say a word.

"I work for an origination called Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. Also known as S.H.I.E.L.D. You know those attacks on New York right? Well, I am an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. as well as a superhero. Not a big one like Iron Man or the Hulk but I do have powers."

"Yeah, and what are those powers, Miss Smith?" the Grinch asks as he takes my chart from Grandma and stares intently, waiting for my response. "Would you like me to tell you, or would you prefer I show you?" I snap back, realizing how much of a bad idea this whole day is turning into. "Oh please, do show me!" He states, not believing a word I say. Propping myself up so I can reach the heart monitor, I place my palm on the power source and start to drain the energy from the technology straight into my body. "She's destructing property!" I look over to see the silent lurker, who I now realize was a bored security guard, move into the room. I glance over to Grandma who looks worried for my sanity.

"Get 1 mg of Lorazepam, stat! And call someone down here from psych while you're at it!" the doctor roars. Within seconds I am being held down by the creepy silent lurker as Grandma is sticking a shot of whatever this Lorazpam shit is, into my IV. I feel the power from the heart monitor racing through my body as I throw off the rent a cop. He flies and smacks into the adjacent wall, plunging into an unconscious state. Ripping out my IV, I get up and stand as reinforcements arrive.

I can take them. Not the best idea I had but I've been through worse. Fucking doctor had to be ass. I always have to be so trustworthy and think that everyone will believe me just because of what happened in New York. Maybe I should've used my cover of a high school teacher. Live and learn. Well, bring it bitches. The fun is just getting started.

A bouncer type rent a cop approaches me from my good side as two more approach me from the right. Seriously juiced and not feeling the Lorazepam at all, I trip steroids as I spin around on my cast, which doesn't hurt as much anymore. I grab the table that was by bed and use it to bash one of the two remaining rent-a-cops. As the wood splits over the guards back I hear "Get me 10 mg of Haloperidol. And call a code. She's picking off the guards like they're flies." Hopping onto my bed as I hear "Code 9 Emergency Room" over the intercom, I acknowledge it's just steroids and I left in the room. The other guard took the silent lurker out of the room when I was distracted. I feel like a bee is stinging me in my upper left butt cheek as I wrap my legs around steroids neck in attempt to cut off his air supply, not so worried about my dignity so much anymore with wearing an undersized hospital gown.

I swing out, balancing on my bed, as a rush of people from all departments run in and I realize I am outnumbered. Letting go of steroids, I stand and back up as I look for an escape that can give me some sense of familiarity. I scan the area as my eyes rest upon Grandma who is whispering to someone I don't know. I feel a sleepiness sense of high slam into me. I glare at everyone as steroids approaches me and steers me to the hospital bed. "Someone call a person down from housekeeping. She made a mess of this place. Make sure to strap her down. I don't want a repeat performance when she wakes up. Oh and you, fix her IV. While you're at it, do a tox screen! " The doctor orders as he walks out of my room with his colleagues. The last thing I recall before I fall into a dreamless sleep is Grandma's kindhearted face, smiling down on me as she safely tucks me into the hospital bed while whispering a prayer goodnight.