There's an alias that appears some times in the beginning, do not worry about it.
Omsk, Russia
Sasha's face was slapped again. Just like the previous times, she doesn't care a bit. It only hurt the instant the burly man hit her face. Her cheek was brought up to a lively red tone, the blood furiously pounding, but pain was just a momentary reminder that she was being beaten for reasons so far unknown to her. Sasha was lured into a dark corner; they said they "wanted to have a little talk". She didn't mind walking with the two men in black; she could perfectly make a weapon out of something if necessity required so. They put a sac on her head and escorted her to an unknown place. Sasha counted the two men in black, that were now guarding the door, plus one slender and helpless man who was the IT tech of that organization, whatever it was. Anyhow, that one constituted no threat as he could probably be blown away by a stronger waft. Her calculus closed up on a total of four men, being the fourth one was Dmitriy Nikolai Lagunov, he made sure to introduce himself. Lagunov was the leader, apparently, the one who had been continuously slapping her for the past forty-five minutes.
He got her shoes removed, smart thought actually. Lagunov was an informed man. Once, Sasha, at the time known as Natalia, killed a man by perforating his eyeball with the heel of her shoe. Still, being barefoot was no deterrent for her to beat up four people. On the other hand being tied up to a chair was a bit more of a trouble, but nothing impossible for her. Sasha just hadn't freed herself because she was still evaluating the situation. She recognized the place, vaguely, though. Old factory, now completely abandoned, that once housed a manufacturing line of shoes. Little girls, at the peak of their innocence years were thrown there to sew shoes for sixteen hours a day. Natalia was one of them. Now only memories remained of the factory. The place once overly crowded, hot and with all machinery working was now a cold empty place with rusty and broken gears.
"Sasha Zaytseva…" Lagunov spoke, tucking his hands on the pockets of his twill blue pants. "You're an interesting and hard to find creature."
Her voice was finally heard after having been politely abducted. "Will you tell me why I'm here, or am I just a punching bag?"
"Why? Does the fearless and tough Black Widow needs a break?"
"No, the fearless and tough Black Widow has better things to do than being here. If you don't tell me the reason for this polite invitation, I'm afraid I'll have to force my way out of here."
"Very well, I shall tell you my purposes for this meeting. I was merely testing you up until now." Natasha rolled her eyes during the brief pause Lagunov took to breath. "You have gone by several aliases. The one I'm particularly interested in is Natasha Romanoff. She was partnered up with an archer, Clint Barton."
"Oh, him?" She said completely relaxed, yet something inside her twisted upon hearing his name. "Well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not Clint Barton."
"True, I know that. I was just hoping you'd know where he might be. If so, we'll immediately let you go back to your busy life."
"He's in New York, I suppose. I don't see him it has been quite a long time and I don't usually keep track of people. But I do know that he has a shack in the woods where he likes to be when he's not at his apartment near Bed-Stuy in Brooklyn."
"You're giving me that information, just like that, so easily? I can perfectly understand that you have important affairs to do, but he was your partner for so long. Where is the love, Ms. Romanoff?"
"Love?" She snorted with an eye roll.
"Alright," the man nodded his head "so he was just another unfortunate fool who fell in the spider's web?"
"Just that. I recognize he was a good partner, giving his restrict skills, and he was great in bed, but that was all. He was just another one."
"Was he really, or is that just you trying to fool yourself?"
That question deeply bothered Sasha- Natasha-, enough for her to grumble. "Are you fishing for you information or trying to start a psychiatrist career?"
"Don't get upset. I didn't mean to question your feelings." Lagunov removed his hands from the pockets and crossed his arms over his chest. "But, Mr. Barton, where can I find him?"
"I've told you. I don't see him in ages, but he won't be far from New York."
The man was convinced by her answer and ordered the sample of man that was his IT nerd to try to locate Clint giving the information he had just gathered.
"So, that's it?" Natasha asked as Lagunov was about to leave. "Do you believe that easily? It could be bluff. Or a double bluff. Maybe even a triple bluff." Something inside Natasha was hurting with the clear feeling and realization that she had handed over Clint so coldly.
Lagunov walked back to Natasha. His hand flew to her neck and leaned her back on the chair, leaving her feet wriggling in thin air. He stole a wet kiss from Natasha, that only made her shake her to break the kiss and then spat him in the face.
"Убери свои руки от меня, вы свинью. я уже говорил вам что я знаю."
Lagunov laughed loudly, amused, and then wiped his cheek with the sleeve of his shirt. "There is no bluff coming from you because there's no one you love the most than yourself." The man let go of Natasha. The sound of the wooden legs of the chair hitting back on the floor echoed in the room. "Shall we give him a call?"
Lagunov was handed a phone. The call had just been picked up when he spoke, giving it no chance for whoever was on the other side of the line to speak. "Mr. Barton, how are you? I believe you know who I am."
"I don't care if you're stalling me to trace this call."
"I will honestly tell you that I am not tracing the call. We don't need to go through such trouble. I want to negotiate. You have something mine, I have something yours." Natasha's eyes narrowed; she didn't belong to anyone. "Natasha Romanoff, I believe you know her."
Clint gulped in some air with a mix of nervousness and disbelief. "Put her on the phone then."
"As you wish," Lagunov said. Clint grunted louder than he expected; he hated Russian's manipulative politeness.
Lagunov pressed the phone on Natasha's ear. No one made a sound until eventually Clint broke the silence with a barely heard whisper, "Natasha? Natasha, are you there?"
"I'm here," her voice finally came out, frailer than she expected it. Hearing Clint's voice completely shattered her.
"You're okay?"
"I'm fine."
"Alright, let's break it up," The Russian said, taking the phone from Natasha's ear back to his. "Are you ready to negotiate?"
"Meet with me." Clint sharply told Lagunov.
"No, no, Mr. Barton." He repeated, only slower the next time. "No, no. That would be too easy, don't you think? You are not in position to make demands and I'll tell you why. I'd meet up with you; take your girl with me. You'd have an ambush prepared; I'd die and you'd keep the girl. Problem is I won't be idiot in taking her with me, and if I go and you kill me, I don't mind. You'll just being severing part of the dragon. I'm a martyr, and so are my companions. If I die, others will take my place and continue my work. And I assure you Mr. Barton you'll never see your Russian spy lover again. And we'll continue to go after everything you love the most. So, will you send me what's mine or should I start sending what's yours, chopped in pieces?"
"Give an hour." Clint's voice was strong and determined; he knew exactly what he was going to do.
Natasha didn't dare to move from the chair, even though she had practically untied herself already. She needed to assess the situation; the variables could change at any moment and she needed to be alert.
One hour later one of Lagunov's henchmen brought Clint. Natasha batted her eyes slowly; she considered him the most idiot person on Earth, but not this much. With him he brought a small briefcase, not bigger than ten inches.
"I will honestly tell you that I was tracing the call." Clint mocked, clearly replicating the answer Lagunov had given him over the phone. "I was nearby and thought I should visit you."
"I believe you came here for other reasons." Lagunov stepped back and let Clint have a clear view of Natasha tied up to the chair. "The briefcase and I'll let her go."
Clint didn't take the Russian's words as an order, but he did immediately drop the briefcase on the ground and walked to Natasha.
"How're you? You're good?" Clint asked, hitting the peak of worry.
"I'm okay, you idiot. You shouldn't have come."
After verifying the content of the briefcase which contained a very antique Hydra weapon, powered by gamma radiation, Lagunov spoke. "Ms. Romanoff, Mr. Barton, you'll have to cancel your plans. I'm sorry but I cannot let you walk out of here."
With a slight head nod, Lagunov instructed his henchmen to kill both Natasha and Clint while he buttoned up his jacket and prepared to leave the room.
"One," Natasha counted.
Clint immediately picked up her hint; it was their signal. "deux,"
"три!"
Clint took two steps back as Natasha got up from her chair with fair easiness and grabbed the rope she had been tied up with. She laced it around one of Lagunov's men and she was able to remove the gun from his hand and give him a round kick to the face that knocked him over immediately. In the meantime Clint had taken it upon the other guy, the one that surprisingly wasn't armed. He was going to fight Clint with his bare hands, but he was ready for any eventuality. When the thug threw a punch, Clint clenched the guy's fist on his hand and crushed it until the sound of his bones cracking was heard. Then he kneed the man on the chin and finished him with a powerful kick to the chest that knocked him on the floor. It all happened so fast that when he shifted around, he met a bullet entering his skull, fired by Natasha using the gun she had removed from the one that attacked her. Clint bent down to pick up the briefcase he had brought with him, so he could take it back.
"IT nerd on that room," Natasha whispered, signaling him the direction.
Clint kicked down the door and Natasha walked in wielding her gun at the poor young man. He raised his hands and started breathing fast. Natasha approached him and tossed the gun on the floor; with one quick move she twisted his neck and his head dropped over the desk. There was a strange warmth pooling in Natasha's stomach; she felt safe because Clint could always keep up with her pace and he knew her methods. They were synchronized and fast. Like Coulson once had said, they never needed an extraction plan. They were the perfect duo. The Agency had had innumerous great agents, but there was never a duo that paired so well as Natasha and Clint.
The two exited the factory and started walking, hardly due to the thick layer of snow. They didn't mind where exactly they were heading; they just needed to get away from there fast. The two of them were walking side by side, their steps matching each other's. His right foot paired with her right foot and her left foot paired with his right foot, as coordinated as it had always been.
"You are a freaking idiot." Natasha spat between breaths.
"I'm an idiot for coming to rescue? Wanted me to leave you tied up to that chair?"
"They were not after me, they were after you. You were their problem, so soon I'd be released."
Clint held her arm strongly, which made her stop and look at him. "They'd never let you go. They'd kill you in there."
"For fuck's sake, Clint, I can protect my own ass! I never needed you." Natasha paid attention to his eyes, glassed over with tears. "What? This is something you've always known. I've always used your love to make you do what I wanted. I manipulated you all along."
"I didn't believe you when you told me this the first time, I won't buy it this time either."
"Believe what you want." Natasha brushed off his hold and began walking again. He did the same. "You know I only did a few altruist acts in my life and I can assure that those few were never for your sake."
Natasha wasn't lying in what she was saying. Every time Clint was suffering, she'd always want to make him feel better. It didn't really bother him the fact that he was suffering; it bothered her the fact that his pain was hurting her more than it should.
"So," Clint wet his throat. "you opening up to me, telling me all those things you never told anyone, all those times we were together, patching up each other, getting drunk or in bed, it was a lie, is that what you're saying? You never felt any of that?"
"Every time I was assigned a partner we were sexually involved, we got drunk together and we patch up each other's wounds. Don't feel special, Clint. I've done it before with others. You meant exactly the same all the others meant, which is nothing."
"That's bullshit and I don't buy it. There was so much between us that you're forcing yourself to-"
She cut him off. "In case I haven't been clear before, there was nothing special between us. We were partners and our cycle ended up. We need to walk different roads."
"Have you heard about the tale of Peter and the wolf?"
Natasha didn't bother to answer it mainly because she really couldn't voice a word. She knew what he meant with that. And he knew she had understood it perfectly. No matter how many times she'd need for his help, he'd be there for her in a heartbeat, without questioning her motives. He needed her more than she'd ever know.
"Have heard about Stockholm Syndrome?" Natasha then told him. She tried to be cold and emotionless.
"Don't answer me with another question!" He yelled at her, turning around to face her. The two stared into each other's eyes, trying to hopefully find their old selves, but apparently there was nothing left but pain. "How did we come to this point?" Clint asked in a softened tone of voice.
Natasha breathed deeply and pushed back her tears. Hearing his voice, seeing him again after so long was shaking her more than it should. "We cracked the ice of the lake too quickly. Our frozen lake is now nothing but cold water with pieces of ice floating everywhere." Natasha took some time to breathe while she looked down. "Frozen lake is the name for what you want the most in the world and you want it, you want it so bad that you'll do anything in the world to get it. And then your heart takes over. And because of that, it destroys you in the end. It's right there, just sitting in the middle of this frozen lake and you think you're fast enough to go there and grab it before the ice cracks."
Before talking Clint realized that their steps on the snow were no longer coordinated. "And what you don't realize is that you're already standing on the ice and it's falling apart around you… If is it so, tell me you never meant the things you said to me, the kisses you gave and the times you were close to me, assuring me we'd always get through the hard times. Tell me."
"Where are you standing, Clint? On the lakeshore or on one of the floating pieces of ice?"
Clint swallowed slowly; it was all over. "I'm deep down under water... I have been there for so long now it no longer bothers me. And you, Natasha? Where do you stand?" Clint's question was rhetorical; he didn't even face her when he spoke. He continued his path as she was left behind.
And then it hit her. The ice piece she had been floating on broke and she fell in the cold water. She was drowning, a strong force pulling her down; she was unable to return safely to the lakeshore or to even breathe. How could he – the man with restricted skills – survive while she – the expert and multi-skilled woman – was barely breathing? Natasha realized that when she said she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, she wasn't really carrying it. Clint was the one who was the stronger of the two. For the first time she understood the pain he had been living all along. How could he live like that when she was hurting so badly? She needed him more than she'd ever show. She loved him more than she ever believed. It was fear and stubbornness that led them there.
The road they walked together split in two.
A strong East wind started blowing.
The snowflakes were already covering his footprints and soon he was just a shape melding in the horizon. He was feeling empty and wounded.
A tear rolled down Natasha's face as she cuddled the coat to her body. She retook her path to nowhere. She was feeling empty and wounded.
Because they only knew they loved each other when there was no turning back. When they let go of one another. When it was all lost.
*hides behind Natasha* I'm sorry.
Reviews are nice, though.