Tied

One

Two sets of eyes peered out the window, taking in the stunning greenery that surrounded the earthy home. 

The warm glow of the afternoon sunlight sent rays through the glass panes, landing perfectly on the hardwood flooring. 

From the corner of her eye, Dahlia could see the tiny flecks of dust floating around, though she ignored them. There was no particular reason why, just that she didn't mind the miniscule swirling masses. 

The second set of eyes turned to the woman nursing a mug of hot tea. Alas, she wasn't paying attention. 

The cat let out a miaow and dug her sharp nails into the soft flesh of her human's thigh. 

“Tish,” Dahlia scolded lightly. “There's other ways to get my attention, you know?” 

She set the mug down on the little table, thoroughly abandoning it to pay attention to her beloved cat, Morticia.

The cat welcomed the touch of the woman that loved her so very much, arching her back into her hand and purring. 
Dahlia smiled at the rumbling feeling, watching her body language closely. 

It had only been the two of them for the past three years, so there was a certain level of trust between them. 

Dahlia had found Morticia abandoned by the rest of the litter when it was snowing, so she took her in and instantly fell in love with the long haired calico kitten. 

Morticia meowed again, nudging Dahlia's hand before standing up. 
She leaped off of her lap and sauntered into a different room. 

“Do you not want my love?” Dahlia called out. 
Silence. 
“I see how it is.” She muttered, returning to her tea. 

The sunlight dipped behind the trees, taking the golden rays with it. 
It left the room dark, despite the sky still being light enough to see outside. Dahlia set the mug down again and stood, stretching her aching muscles. 

She exhaled and adjusted her old, heathered gray S.H.I.E.L.D. training t-shirt so that it sat nicely over her black athletic shorts. The black letters were fading from years of being washed constantly. 

The words ‘CARRIER 64’ were holding on for dear life, almost ineligible on the right sleeve of the old shirt. 

Dahlia quickly closed the dark blue curtains and meandered over to the switch on the wall that turned on the lamps in the living room. 
She flipped it, momentarily basking in the warm yellow glow of her favorite lamps. 

As a last second thought, she locked the door and flipped on the porch light. 

She likely wouldn't be going outside, but in the event that she had to, it was better safe than sorry to have it on already. 

It was often quiet in the house, a fact that drove Dahlia insane for the first few months of living in the mountains. Unless the TV was on, Morticia was making noise, or the local radio station was playing, the silence could get overwhelming. 

She entered the kitchen to her left, stopping at the refrigerator to grab the deli bag of turkey, mayonnaise, and provolone cheese. 

One of the only perks of living alone was that dahlia could make anything she wanted for dinner. Even if it was a simple turkey and cheese sandwich.

The moment she grabbed bread out of the bag and threw it down into the toaster, Morticia ran into the room, yowling and nudging the mostly filled bowl with her singular black paw. 

Dahlia raised her eyebrows at her entitled cat. 

“Babe, I fed you less than two hours ago. . . That bowl is still full.” 

Morticia meowed loudly, dropping down to the floor. Her eyes dilated and her fluffy tail swayed back and forth.

The moment Dahlia turned her back, she attacked, sinking her teeth and claws into her ankle. 
“Christ, Tish, fine!” Dahlia huffed, bending over to shake the food so more would fall into the center. 

She washed her hands and somehow managed to finish making her sandwich before there was any other interruption. 

It was dark and there was a knock on her door. She debated not answering it, pretending she was at work or asleep. . . But her Jeep was very clearly in the driveway and it was only nine in the evening. 

Dahlia picked up her turkey sandwich, taking a large bite of it as she slowly walked towards the door. 

There was another knock. 

“Yeah, I'm coming. Hold your horses.”
Whoever was there would have to be fine with her current appearance. 

She unlocked both locks, cracking the door open enough to see who was there, but not far enough where the adventurous Morticia could escape out the front door. She highly doubted she would try, but she never knew. 

It took a moment for Dahlia to recognize the two people on her porch, but when she noticed them, she realized she had to play it cool otherwise things could go badly very quickly. 

“What can I help you with?” She asked, taking another bite of her sandwich. 

“It's time for you to come out of hiding.” Natasha replied. 
Dahlia swallowed the food in her mouth. “I've not exactly been hiding.”

“Then why has it taken us a week to find you?” Steve questioned, crossing his arms.

“A week? You must've searched every camera in the world for even the slightest glimpse of me, and I've been here the whole time.” Dahlia smirked, opening the door a bit more. 

“Everyone thinks you're dead,” Natasha announced quickly. “They think you're buried at the bottom of the Potomac, since that's the last place your phone showed any signs of life.”

“Good. It's a good thing that everyone thinks I'm dead. . . It was for the best. I was an extra on the team to begin with — the only reason Fury let me on was because Clint was being mind controlled, did you know that?”

Natasha ignored her.

“We had a funeral for you. You have a nice little plot down in Queens, it gets fresh flowers every week. Tony makes sure it does. . . To us, you were family.” Natasha crossed her arms. 

Her words held no emotion, yet her eyes told a story of a woman seeing her old friend again, alive and well. 

“I bet it's Lovely.” Dahlia muttered, looking down at the couple bites of sandwich she had left. 

“It is. Clint and I always thought you were alive since we never found your body in the ruins or at the bottom of the river. . . And here you are.” 

“Here I am,” Dahlia sighed. “Get in here, watch out for Tish. . . Clearly this isn't a trip for pleasantries.” 

“That's right.” Steve said. 
Dahlia rolled her eyes and opened the door, stepping back so that they could enter herfamily.

She quickly finished the last couple bites of her sandwich before turning to the room. 

“So, why did you have to bring Captain Spandex?” She groaned closing the door, watching as Natasha got comfortable on the couch with Morticia immediately curling up in her lap.

“I see you're still immature. . . Shocker.” Steve chided from where he stood. 

“I see you're still the same star spangled fuck face you were four years ago.” Dahlia snorted, flopping into her plush arm chair. 

“You know what—”
Natasha cut Steve off. “Dahlia, we need your help. . . A threat has already landed and we can't fight it without you.” 

The younger woman raised her eyebrows, looking between the two heroes. It was clear that it was serious, otherwise Steve fucking Rogers wouldn't be standing in her living room.

“How long do we have?” Dahlia questioned. 
Her back straightened and it was almost as if she went back into Agent mode, after four years of it being dormant. 

“Not long. We came to pick you up on our way. . . Suit up.”