Okay, a few things to clear up in this a/n. First of all, I know this is another short chapter, but it's the last one that I've struggled to write so they should get longer and open up soon once I get back to the part of the story that was my original inspiration.
Also, it has come to my attention that I am taking a lot of creative liberty in my description of the White Rose. I am not currently enlisted in any of the armed forces, and I know a little more than nothing about the working of a Navy cruiser or life aboard one. I'm doing a fair amount of research, and I believe I have some of the basic ideas down. However, this story has a direction it needs to go in, and I'll have to make it go there. So if it's not 100% accurate, I'm sorry, but it probably won't be.

Anyway, thanks for reading this if you did, 'cause I know I typically don't read author's notes and all, now on to what you actually came for…

The first thing that registered in Natasha's mind, when she felt herself falling, was a fierce determination to absolutely strangle Tony for dropping her. He was obviously just messing with her, there was no way he would have actually mistakenly dropped her. The minute he picked her up again she was going to… And then her wits caught up, and holy hell, they had just been struck by lightning. Now, she was careening toward the water of the Indian Ocean.

"Tony!" she shouted, drawing out the name as she fell. A scream fought its way up her throat but she shut it down. The Black Widow did not scream. Tony was in a nose dive, having already grabbed Clint by the arm, and he was headed straight toward her.

"Natasha!" she heard Clint cry out. She saw them reaching out for her, and reached out. Another few feet and she would be caught.

She slammed into something hard, and everything around her disappeared. She felt her descent slow immediately and a roaring entered her ears. It came to her that she had hit the water. Struggling to the surface of the raging sea, she broke back into the air with a gasp.

The lights of the Iron Man suit, dim and already fading away, flitted above her. "Clint!" she shouted, reflexively calling the name of the one person she trusted. "Clint!"

He didn't hear her, and the lights of the Iron Man suit disappeared into the rainy haze. "Clint," she called again, though more for emotion's sake than for any real purpose. Feeling hopelessness flooding in her chest, she shoved it aside in favor of steely determination. Treading water to stay afloat, she felt for the direction of the current. She rode the crests of the waves and paddled down the troughs, moving easily with the current and saving her energy.

She wasn't sure how long she floated, or in which direction she was going, before she heard the drone of an engine. The emptiness had begun to play with her mind, and at first she wasn't entirely sure she heard it.

They left you again, her mind whispered. Corsakov was right. You are a monster. And now, they've realized how fast you'll pull them down. There's a reason he caught Barton first. Stark was in no hurry to catch you. The drone grew louder, but Natasha was convinced no one was looking. The sound could not be real. You don't need them anyway. They're the reason

Suddenly, the water around her was washed in a bright yellow light. She spun around as the engine noises cut out, and was blinded for a moment by a giant spotlight. Her eyes slammed shut and she raised her arm above her head to block the light, but it shut off almost as soon as it had appeared. "Agent Romanoff, stay calm," a voice called. It sounded like it was being sent out of a megaphone. Natasha opened her eyes to see a Navy tender looming over her, it's deck washed in overhead lights. People were rushing about, trying to get a line to throw her and calling out. One man stood at the helm, watching everything calmly and trying to get a response out of her by shouting over the megaphone in his hands.

Natasha, still in a mental survival mode, thought all the excitement was a bit much. She was immediately drawn to the calmer man; he looked like he was in charge and he looked like he knew what he was doing. She struck out toward the boat, ignoring the ropes thrown her way in favor of her own muscle power to draw her in. Once alongside, she let two of the men onboard pull her up and over the side, where she stood immediately, appearing unaffected by her ordeal. She brushed off hands offered her and marched up to the man who had appealed to her earlier. His back was currently to her, but the thought still struck her that he looked familiar somehow. By the stripes on his arm, he was a lieutenant, and she called him as such.

"Really, Agent Romanoff, such formality?" The man asked with a laugh. Before he even turned around, she knew who it was. "I thought I told you to call me-"

"Grey Parks?" she asked. So it was the White Rose, then. Funny how this all worked out.

That's all for now folks. Reviews gladly accepted and appreciated (please please please!)

BA&A