Welcome to One Year. I've been working on this for a while, but I've been hesitant to publish it.
Disclaimer: One person can't own Marvel, and if they can, well it isn't me.
It was a loud, clear night in Madrid, Spain when the world would change forever. When a simple ex-carnie with trust issues would spare the life of a beautiful and manipulated Russian orphan. No one would see what would happen. No one knew that these two would play a large role in saving the world from drug lords, arms dealers, assassins, terrorist, and even aliens. No one could predict that these two would bring together a group of Earth's mightiest heroes. No one knew what the power of being human could accomplish. No one could see just how unique and powerful the Black Widow and Hawkeye were, and just how deadly they could be.
He had been observing her for a week, watching her every move and learning what it was like to be the Black Widow. He had observed her steal money from stupid men in the bar, put a few in a hospital, and run countless errands. Yet, there was one thing he couldn't put his finger on, why she hadn't killed them all. Quite a few deserved it, but she hadn't done anything but put them in a hospital. He didn't think the Black Widow spared anyone.
"Next time you send me on surveillance, give me a lawn chair." Twenty-three year old Clint Barton grumbled quietly into his earpiece. He was sitting up on a roof, overlooking a beautiful Russian.
His handler of one year, Phil Coulson, was probably rolling his eyes back at SHIELD base. "This isn't surveillance, it's assassination. Get rid of her, then get back to base. It's not hard, Barton. You've done it before."
"Coulson, I still don't like this." He replied, watching the infamous Black Widow walk out of the shop with a green gown. His target, a current KGB spy, was only twenty-one years old. She had curly red hair, a pale flawless face, and bright blue eyes. She was beautiful, dangerous, and deadly. She had killed over fifty people in a month about two years ago, right after her husband died. "Why would she have a ballroom gown?"
"Probably for the charity event where Polksy will be." Coulson answered. "Barton, get over it. It's just another hit, and she is one evil woman."
Clint nodded as if Coulson could see him. "I know, but she's just like I was."
"She's nothing like you were." His handler replied. "She's a cold-hearted assassin. You had and still have a heart. The broken recruit mirror proves that one."
"Yeah, but I didn't have a heart on the job. She was forced into this life, Coulson. It's not fair." Clint replied, remembering his emotional breakdown when he shattered the bathroom mirror with his fist. He had seen the faces of everyone who betrayed him, and he lost it. Coulson, who had known he snuck out, had seen him and officially decided to put him back together.
Coulson sighed. "Look, Clint, I get why you relate to her, but she needs to be taken out. It's the council's mission, and you are already on bad terms with them."
"I still veto that decision." Clint mumbled, watching the Widow hail a cab. He jumped up and followed the cab by using the fire escape and moving through the crowd.
"We all do, even Fury. There was nothing you could have done to make that mission go right. You did the right thing by getting those kids out of there. Unfortunately, the council had a stick up their ass like usual." Coulson replied quietly.
Clint watched the Widow. She was only a year or two younger than him, and that bothered him. She was too young for him to kill. She could still turn her life around. After all, he had done it not even a year ago. He had gone from cold-hearted assassin to SHIELD's finest. "Phil, people can change."
Coulson knew he wasn't talking about the council. "Kid, just take the shot."
Clint shook his head. "No, I'm going to talk to her."
"Barton, do have any idea how bad of an idea that is?" Coulson began, knowing it was useless. Once the ex-carnie caught an idea, he stayed with said idea. He was as stubborn as they came.
"So what? Phil, I'll do this with or without your permission." He insisted.
Shaking his head Coulson sighed. "Fine, but you are waiting until that ball to talk to her. That way, she can't kill you with all of those people around."
"Deal."
It was three days later that Clint found himself wearing a fancy outfit to a ball. He had snuck his name onto the guest list the night before, and then gone out and found a suit. The next afternoon he found himself swirling a pretty brunette Portuguese girl while watching the Black Widow out of the corner of his eye.
The Widow was wearing a long green ballroom gown that hugged her every curve. The top was beaded with fake diamonds and would have been strapless if it had not been for the beaded strap on the left shoulder. The light shade of green came down diagonally from her waste across to her left side and landed at her ankle. The underneath layer of the dress followed the light shade and met the floor with a darker shade of green and a slight ruffle. Her red curls were twisted into a hairstyle that made him wonder how long she spent on it. A bang from her left side had been twisted and pulled to the right to create a half tiara around her head. All her curls were tucked into an elegant ponytail and pulled over to the right where they hung gracefully over her shoulder.
It wasn't hard to see why her target, the man she was dancing with, had fallen for her already. Besides her looks, she was graceful and charming. Of course, only her and Clint knew that this charm was totally faked.
Shaking his head, he smiled and continued to twirl the young debutant whom he had charmed. His outfit wasn't quite as formal as the Widow's, but it still did the job. He was wearing an elbow length white flannel shirt that hid his weapons well. His black vest was Kevlar at its best. To finish it off he wore a black hat with a rim that pushed upwards. He had a gun hidden under his white shirt, along with a few knives. Unfortunately his bow had to be left behind for this mission.
The girl in his arms swooned at him. "You are a good dancer, mister. What is your name?" She asked with a definite Portuguese accent.
"Clayton Brown." He responded, using his usual alias. He smiled at her and kissed her hand. "Excuse me, madam."
Walking away from the now pouting girl, he made his way to the Black Widow and her partner. "Excuse me, sir, but are you Dr. Polksy?"
The man nodded with a smile. Clint had him sized up in a few seconds. He was about five feet, eight inches. He had thin black hair, pale skin, and brown eyes. He was rich, wearing an expensive full tailored suit and a luxurious gold watch. Although by no means modest, Polksy seemed like a good man with a big heart. "Yes, how can I help you?"
"Do you remember your old friend, Dr. Bishop?" Clint asked, knowing the man would. He had researched Polksy thoroughly. Dr. Bishop was an old coworker who had lost contact with Polksy. Bishop had moved to America around forty years ago.
The man laughed. "Of course, do you know Daniel?"
Clint smiled charmingly, ignoring the Widow's glare. "Yes, he is my grandfather. He said I could find you here."
Polksy smiled and clapped his shoulder. "I see the family resemblance. So you are Olivia's son then? Or are you Victor's boy?"
"Olivia's, sir." Clint stated, fighting the urge to snicker as the Widow narrowed her eyes. "Is this your girlfriend, sir?"
The old man laughed. "No, a woman this beautiful wouldn't want to date someone as old as myself. Ms. Rushman, this is my old co-worker's grandson…"
"Clayton Brown." Clint said, kissing her hand before she could pull away. Her glare was withering before she smiled at the old man.
"Jim, I was hoping you would show me that painting we were discussing." She purred, charming the old man.
He smiled at her. "I will come back and find you, my dear. First, I must go mingle with everyone here. It was great to meet you, Clayton. Tell your grandfather I said hello. He was a great man."
"Will do, sir." Clint said, watching him walk away. The Widow turned on her heel and began to storm off. He followed her to the punch bowl and smiled. "Excuse me, ma'am, would you do me the honor of a dance?" He asked her politely in Russian.
She stared at him, no doubt analyzing everything about him in ten seconds. He caught her ice blue eyes as she stared at him. "I am sorry, but no."
He nodded, showing her his gun tucked in his hip. "Come on, Widow."
Her eyes turned ice-cold as she glared at him. "Who are you?"
He nodded to the dance floor. "I'll explain everything."
"American, are you not?" She asked, switching to English. Her accent had disappeared and she pronounced English like she had speaking it her whole life. "So, CIA or someone else?"
"Not even close. I am American, but I do not work for the CIA or anyone you would have heard of." He stated, smirking at her.
She rolled her eyes. "Fine, I have been needing a little entertainment lately."
"Polksy too boring for the Widow?" He teased.
Her eyes turned into a deadly glare again. "You aren't his old co-worker's grandson."
He shook his head with a smile. "No, I needed to talk to you alone. I knew your target. Did you know he's a single father?"
"A daughter sixteen years old." She stated, taking a drink of the wine.
"He is a doctor at Madrid's most popular hospital. He refused to kill a target of the KGB, and in return they sent you. The man has no reason he should be killed. He is a high-ranking member of society who constantly donates funds to charities." He returned, watching her for a reaction.
She wasn't going to give him one. "Mmm, all well."
"All well? It's killing you to harm innocent people, I can tell. I've been there. Come on, let's dance." He stated, holding out a hand.
She watched it carefully before following him out to the dance floor. She was surprised to figure out he knew how to waltz, seeing how it wasn't a common dance in America.
"What would you say if I told you I could give you a new life? One where you knew everything about your target. One where you weren't a puppet." He asked her, ignoring Coulson, who had been quiet, cursing in his ear.
"I would say you were a liar." She responded, smiling coyly. "Do you know the tango, Mr…"
"Call me Agent Barton, Ms. Romanoff." He stated, answering her question by putting a hand on her back and clasping her left hand with his arm out. "I am not lying, Ms. Romanoff."
She nodded, moving with the beat. She knew the dance well, not as well as others, but well enough. Her body moved with his flawlessly as she stared into his sincere blue and gray orbs. His eyes fascinated her, she had never seen two colors blend like that. Deciding to take a chance, she let all her years of dance take over.
"What was that?" He asked, smiling as her right foot made a small circle behind his before returning to its place.
"Guess the music just speaks to me." She purred, nearly shocked when he nodded and pulled her up. He stepped back, then to the side, forward, and finally stepping back closely to her.
"Well I guess then we don't have a language barrier." He stated, smirking as she glared at him before lifting her right heel back and moving with him. "Would you listen to my offer?"
"Is it that or you try to kill me?" She questioned.
His smirk told her the answer. "I work for the Supreme Headquarters of International Espionage and Law-Enforcement Division, or SHIELD for short. We've had an eye on you ever since you killed one of our agents six months ago. I've been watching you for a week now." He began, twirling her around before regaining the close position and moving with her.
"Should I be honored?" She asked sarcastically.
"Yes, we don't just pay attention to anyone. We take care of everything and anything that is a threat to the world. Whether it be terrestrial or extraterrestrial. As for me, I don't pay attention to just anyone." He stated, dipping her to the ground.
"You'd be surprised how many times I've heard that comment, Agent Barton. Sounds intriguing, but why should I join you?" She asked.
"Because you have nowhere else to go. The KGB knows you are trying to get out, and they have a bounty on you and you know you need help to get them off your back. Also, if you don't agree, then I will have to carry out my mission and kill you." He answered her.
"So tell me, Agent Barton, did SHIELD send its best after me?" She purred, irritated he knew she was trying to leave the KGB. She twirled in his arms and silently admitting to herself that she hadn't danced like this in years. Maybe she had never danced like this. Dancing was usually accompanied by a false chemistry that made a man eat of her palm. Yet, Agent Barton didn't seem at all effected by her charm.
His cocky smile was her answer once again.
"So what are you offering me, agent?" She asked, her blue eyes mixing with his.
"A second chance." He answered, twirling her one last time before catching her and letting her land in his arms. He dipped her to the ground, his face only inches from hers.
She nodded. "I'll consider it."
He nodded at her. "I'm not letting you out of my sight, Romanoff. How do I know you won't finish the job and leave?"
She nearly swore. "Fine, I will come with you, but only since you are right, I am tired of running."
"I know how you feel." He whispered, pulling her back up and letting her go.
She watched as he walked away to get a drink. As she silently followed, she wondered when a man could make her ask so many questions to herself.
Agent Barton sure was mystery.