The tech and computer labs at A.E.G.I.S. H.Q. had been running non-stop for more than twenty-four hours, and still there was nothing coming up from the Murmansk data. The sense of urgency still hung in the air, even after word filtered down from the top that Hydra had failed to kill Captain America's sister-in-law. But for the hackers and techies working on the data, all that did was give a little more incentive to find what was being hidden from them. Despite warnings from certain people to stop pushing herself, Agent Romanoff was up again just a few hours after she had finally fallen to sleep, too on edge to relax, and so - armed with coffee and sandwiches purloined from the top level cafeteria - she made her way into the labs, seeking out her favorite tech.
The techs had started alternating shifts, so that some of them were always at work on the data, while the others rested. Otherwise, they'd burn out too quickly and be no good to anyone. In order to properly pick through Hydra's data, they needed to be rested, awake, alert, and sharp. Coffee helped, but not even coffee could keep a weary mind focused when what it really needed was sleep. As it turned out, Agent Romanoff's favorite tech was a night owl, who did his best work when most people were sleeping.
It didn't take long to find him - most of the labs were dark, with only the few who worked best at night still working on the data in their own cubicles and labs. Natasha didn't knock; she just leaned in the doorway, watching long fingers tapping away at the keyboard with a secretive smile. "If I brought coffee, do I get to come in?"
The man whose fingers were tapping away at the keyboard didn't bother to look up, but there was an amused smirk on his face at the familiar sound of her voice, not to mention the promise of coffee. "Sure, and if you brought sandwiches, I might even let you stay a while," he said, momentarily withdrawing one hand from the keyboard to pat the chair beside him. "Make yourself at home. It's gonna be a long night."
"Hanging out here beats risking Croft or Rogers catching me out of bed," was her reply as she pushed off the door, walking in on bare feet to set the plate and cups down before curling comfortably into the chair he suggested for her. "I offered to help with this, but apparently I'm unnecessary."
"I wouldn't say that," he disagreed, pausing in his typing to reach for a cup of coffee and turning to meet her gaze with blue eyes the shade of a summer sky. "We all have our talents. Yours are just put to better use in the field."
Knees against her chest, her own cup resting on them in the wrap of her hands, she let her head tilt back against the chair with a wry smile. "Yeah, because hacking a sophisticated A.I. under pressure looks so good on a resume."
"I doubt you care much about a resume," he remarked, smirking as he sipped as his coffee. He spoke with an accent pegged him as definitely being English, but seemed to prefer coffee to tea - at least when he was working.
She chuckled mirthlessly, hugging her own coffee to warm her chest. "Who would have me?" she pointed out. "No one knows who I am these days. Legacy of a life badly planned."
"Who is no one?" he countered, reaching for a sandwich with an almost absent-minded, "May I?" Assuming she'd brought them to share with him, he took a bite, only then realizing how long it had been since he'd eaten last. "You have friends here, Natasha. Whether you let them get to know you is completely up to you."
"Sure." She nodded for him to eat, smiling at his comment on her prickliness. "Getting close is a good way to get killed," she said thoughtfully. "But no one's gotten killed in a few years. Either I broke my streak, or I'm next." She tilted her head, watching him for a moment. "So Edi in R&D turned you down, huh?"
He gulped down another mouthful of sandwich, evidently hungrier than he dared admit. "So, we're talking about me now?" he said with a smirk. "Maybe I turned her down, and she just doesn't want anyone to know."
Nat smiled, shrugging again. "I can't help it," was her only defense, but he was right - she always turned the conversation on to everyone else. "See, I thought she was into you. And then this morning, she was all riled up because apparently you prefer a woman who knows how to handle a weapon?"
"Since when did you take up matchmaking, Agent Romanoff?" he asked, with a strange mixture of annoyance and amusement, as he turned back to his keyboard, perhaps because for some reason, he didn't want to meet her gaze. He didn't bother to answer her question about Edi in R&D, only in part because it was personal.
"Oh, didn't you hear" I have a forty percent success rate as a matchmaker." Yes, she was teasing, and no, she wasn't answering his curiosity the same way he wasn't answering hers. "Would have been higher, but Rogers went and found himself a wife on a totally different dimensional plane."
"Forty percent isn't really that good," he pointed out, seemingly unimpressed. He wasn't sure why they always seemed to play this little game of theirs, bantering back and forth, but not quite flirting. "People do that, you know. It's called dating. Maybe you should try it sometime," he told her before gulping down the other half of his sandwich.
"Been there, done that. Didn't work out so well." Because, of course, the only dates she had actually been on had been while undercover, and the truth had eventually been the end of all those potential maybes. Anyone who knew her could spot when she wasn't being entirely honest.
"Yeah, well, maybe you just haven't dated the right guy," he suggested, fingers tapping away at the keyboard. Most techs preferred silence so that they could concentrate, but rather than find her a distraction, he was able to split his attention between her and the deciphering the code in front of him.
"Now who's playing matchmaker?" Nat teased, smiling again as she watched him. She found the computer labs surprisingly soothing, surrounded by the quiet bustle of activity with no expectation of needing to fight anyone while she was there. And she liked Colin Prescott's company, too. "Have anyone in mind, or is this your new opening gambit when you don't wanna talk about your own love life?"
"This is my opening gambit when someone is trying to matchmake for me," he replied, narrowing his eyes, his fingers coming to a halt against the keyboard as something caught his eye. "Does that look strange to you?" he asked, his eyes focused on something showing up on the screen in front of him, though it was hard to tell what. To anyone who wasn't familiar with computer code, it probably looked like a foreign language.
She snorted at his rejoinder, dropping her feet to the floor to lean forward and look at the screen before him. Thankfully, she knew a little about hacking herself, or she wouldn't have had a clue what he was talking about. There was something interesting there, though. She pointed to a line of code no different, it seemed, to any of the others. "That kinda looks like a mashup of S.H.I.E.L.D. encryption codes from the 70's and 80's."
"Yeah, that's what I was thinking, too," he said. Though she wasn't an expert, he figured she knew at least enough to recognize when something didn't look right. His fingers returned to the keyboard, quickly tapping away, entering coded data that only another hacker would understand. "You might want to call Croft. I think we have something here."
"Yeah." The word was dragged out slowly, suspicion laced in every letter. Nat had a nasty feeling she knew what - or rather, who - was behind that particular code. So what the hell was it doing in Hydra data files? She rose, moving to the phone to tap Croft's internal line. If she was lucky, Steve would be back at H.Q. by now, too. If that code meant what she thought it did, he would definitely want to know.
Colin, on the other hand, had no idea who might have put a message there or why, but there was definitely something there. He inched closer, adrenaline rushing through his veins at the implications of what he'd found, his fingers pounding the keyboard as he tried to extract the message from the encrypted code in which it had been hidden.
The techs had started alternating shifts, so that some of them were always at work on the data, while the others rested. Otherwise, they'd burn out too quickly and be no good to anyone. In order to properly pick through Hydra's data, they needed to be rested, awake, alert, and sharp. Coffee helped, but not even coffee could keep a weary mind focused when what it really needed was sleep. As it turned out, Agent Romanoff's favorite tech was a night owl, who did his best work when most people were sleeping.
It didn't take long to find him - most of the labs were dark, with only the few who worked best at night still working on the data in their own cubicles and labs. Natasha didn't knock; she just leaned in the doorway, watching long fingers tapping away at the keyboard with a secretive smile. "If I brought coffee, do I get to come in?"
The man whose fingers were tapping away at the keyboard didn't bother to look up, but there was an amused smirk on his face at the familiar sound of her voice, not to mention the promise of coffee. "Sure, and if you brought sandwiches, I might even let you stay a while," he said, momentarily withdrawing one hand from the keyboard to pat the chair beside him. "Make yourself at home. It's gonna be a long night."
"Hanging out here beats risking Croft or Rogers catching me out of bed," was her reply as she pushed off the door, walking in on bare feet to set the plate and cups down before curling comfortably into the chair he suggested for her. "I offered to help with this, but apparently I'm unnecessary."
"I wouldn't say that," he disagreed, pausing in his typing to reach for a cup of coffee and turning to meet her gaze with blue eyes the shade of a summer sky. "We all have our talents. Yours are just put to better use in the field."
Knees against her chest, her own cup resting on them in the wrap of her hands, she let her head tilt back against the chair with a wry smile. "Yeah, because hacking a sophisticated A.I. under pressure looks so good on a resume."
"I doubt you care much about a resume," he remarked, smirking as he sipped as his coffee. He spoke with an accent pegged him as definitely being English, but seemed to prefer coffee to tea - at least when he was working.
She chuckled mirthlessly, hugging her own coffee to warm her chest. "Who would have me?" she pointed out. "No one knows who I am these days. Legacy of a life badly planned."
"Who is no one?" he countered, reaching for a sandwich with an almost absent-minded, "May I?" Assuming she'd brought them to share with him, he took a bite, only then realizing how long it had been since he'd eaten last. "You have friends here, Natasha. Whether you let them get to know you is completely up to you."
"Sure." She nodded for him to eat, smiling at his comment on her prickliness. "Getting close is a good way to get killed," she said thoughtfully. "But no one's gotten killed in a few years. Either I broke my streak, or I'm next." She tilted her head, watching him for a moment. "So Edi in R&D turned you down, huh?"
He gulped down another mouthful of sandwich, evidently hungrier than he dared admit. "So, we're talking about me now?" he said with a smirk. "Maybe I turned her down, and she just doesn't want anyone to know."
Nat smiled, shrugging again. "I can't help it," was her only defense, but he was right - she always turned the conversation on to everyone else. "See, I thought she was into you. And then this morning, she was all riled up because apparently you prefer a woman who knows how to handle a weapon?"
"Since when did you take up matchmaking, Agent Romanoff?" he asked, with a strange mixture of annoyance and amusement, as he turned back to his keyboard, perhaps because for some reason, he didn't want to meet her gaze. He didn't bother to answer her question about Edi in R&D, only in part because it was personal.
"Oh, didn't you hear" I have a forty percent success rate as a matchmaker." Yes, she was teasing, and no, she wasn't answering his curiosity the same way he wasn't answering hers. "Would have been higher, but Rogers went and found himself a wife on a totally different dimensional plane."
"Forty percent isn't really that good," he pointed out, seemingly unimpressed. He wasn't sure why they always seemed to play this little game of theirs, bantering back and forth, but not quite flirting. "People do that, you know. It's called dating. Maybe you should try it sometime," he told her before gulping down the other half of his sandwich.
"Been there, done that. Didn't work out so well." Because, of course, the only dates she had actually been on had been while undercover, and the truth had eventually been the end of all those potential maybes. Anyone who knew her could spot when she wasn't being entirely honest.
"Yeah, well, maybe you just haven't dated the right guy," he suggested, fingers tapping away at the keyboard. Most techs preferred silence so that they could concentrate, but rather than find her a distraction, he was able to split his attention between her and the deciphering the code in front of him.
"Now who's playing matchmaker?" Nat teased, smiling again as she watched him. She found the computer labs surprisingly soothing, surrounded by the quiet bustle of activity with no expectation of needing to fight anyone while she was there. And she liked Colin Prescott's company, too. "Have anyone in mind, or is this your new opening gambit when you don't wanna talk about your own love life?"
"This is my opening gambit when someone is trying to matchmake for me," he replied, narrowing his eyes, his fingers coming to a halt against the keyboard as something caught his eye. "Does that look strange to you?" he asked, his eyes focused on something showing up on the screen in front of him, though it was hard to tell what. To anyone who wasn't familiar with computer code, it probably looked like a foreign language.
She snorted at his rejoinder, dropping her feet to the floor to lean forward and look at the screen before him. Thankfully, she knew a little about hacking herself, or she wouldn't have had a clue what he was talking about. There was something interesting there, though. She pointed to a line of code no different, it seemed, to any of the others. "That kinda looks like a mashup of S.H.I.E.L.D. encryption codes from the 70's and 80's."
"Yeah, that's what I was thinking, too," he said. Though she wasn't an expert, he figured she knew at least enough to recognize when something didn't look right. His fingers returned to the keyboard, quickly tapping away, entering coded data that only another hacker would understand. "You might want to call Croft. I think we have something here."
"Yeah." The word was dragged out slowly, suspicion laced in every letter. Nat had a nasty feeling she knew what - or rather, who - was behind that particular code. So what the hell was it doing in Hydra data files? She rose, moving to the phone to tap Croft's internal line. If she was lucky, Steve would be back at H.Q. by now, too. If that code meant what she thought it did, he would definitely want to know.
Colin, on the other hand, had no idea who might have put a message there or why, but there was definitely something there. He inched closer, adrenaline rushing through his veins at the implications of what he'd found, his fingers pounding the keyboard as he tried to extract the message from the encrypted code in which it had been hidden.