So, this is the first part of a longer story that I've been trying to write for a while, and I think I've finally got the plot line where I want it to go so here it is. To add a bit of clarity for the time line, the story takes place after IM3, but before Thor: The Dark World. Please review and give me some feedback whether you like it so far or not (it really helps) and most of all enjoy!

In the months following the Battle of New York, Natasha hadn't had much time off. In reality, the Avengers as a whole hadn't had more than a few days off. When they weren't on a team mission, Fury had Natasha flying all over the globe as she resumed her normal duties as a SHIELD agent. She never begrudged the work. One of SHIELD's top field agents, she was now at the point where she could choose missions that were to her liking. Some days Fury gave her specific jobs that needed done, but more often than not he gave her a long leash with only protocols to abide by.

If there was one thing Natasha resented about the heavy work load though, it was the lack of STRIKE Team: Delta. There were numerous times Clint had been sent on solo missions and she was used to it, but working with the archer made the work more bearable. Since New York, Fury had been cautious around Clint. At first Clint had only been allowed to work with the other Avengers, and although he never said it, Natasha knew Fury lost trust in the agent that day Loki entered his mind. There was something unnerving about having one of your best agents tell an enemy god the hideous secrets and information about your own team.

Slowly, Clint had been put back in the field and given solo missions. They weren't anything difficult, level 4 and 5, but Clint treated them with just as much importance as any other mission Fury had assigned him. Last Natasha had heard Clint had been working in Sarajevo. Fury had sent him to recover some files from the 40's on the tesseract, which had recently been copied and given to some scientists who were trying to explain the events of New York and New Mexico.

As Natasha drove the Corvette Stingray away from the Triskelion, she felt as though the weeks' vacation Fury had given her was not worth it. She was certain Clint wasn't back yet, and she couldn't imagine spending a whole week at the Tower without her partner there making jokes and keeping the air in the room light.

The four hour drive up the I-95 from D.C. to New York would give Natasha time to think. She didn't want to see everyone at the Tower in light of recent events, but also didn't want to spend the week holed up in the apartment if Clint wasn't there to talk to her. Normally she would have spent the week relaxing and trying to act like a normal civilian with Clint, but seeing as he was still away, she couldn't bring herself to go about the same routine by herself.

After stopping in at a little café in Philly for a sandwich, Natasha took back to the road, only this time deciding to take the scenic route along the coast. She was in no particular rush to get home. Driving along through picturesque towns with the smell of salt water might just clear her head after all.

The familiar sound of turning the key in the old lock was soothing. Too often now Natasha was used to scanning and beeping that came with the security system in the safe houses she and Clint had set up. This was the only place Natasha ever stayed that had the simply lock and key, with a bolt on the back of the door, security system.

As Natasha entered the room, she was surprised to find the air in the apartment musty and stagnant. She'd been gone for over a month, and thought Clint had only left a few days ago, but he must have left shortly after her. If they both knew they were going to be away for great lengths of time, they'd often crack a window to let the air circulate. By the looks of things though, Clint had expected not only for her to be back earlier, but for him to be returning as well.

Sighing in relief, Natasha dropped her bag on the couch before going around opening windows. For a late Febuary day, the air was warm and dry. Maybe once she'd showered and settled in she'd go for a walk in the park. The fresh air tended to help put her mind at ease.

With a gentle breeze coming through the apartment, Natasha idly began putting everything away. The apartment looked lived in for sure, but not unkempt. Books and magazines were on the coffee table, a blanket was left unfolded on the couch. Ignoring pile of half fletched arrows on the dining table, the flat looked completely normal, almost completing the lie that Natasha and Clint worked for some investment company that involved frequent business trips.

God, sometimes she hated all the lies. All the lies and how easily the skill came to her. She and Clint were now at the point where there were seldom any secrets between them, which made Natasha a little calmer. She knew that coming so clean to someone was dangerous, but she was long past the point of questioning Clint; she trusted him with her life countless times, the least she could do was the same for him. The other Avengers though, they barely even knew Natasha, and yet they still wanted her on the team. She barely trusted them, but trust would come with time. All she could hope right now is that they don't do anything to question her life and morals-or what was left of them.

A hot shower and fresh clothes brightened Natasha's mood enough to go for a walk in the park. She wasn't worried about anyone recognising her-she wasn't well known anyways-so decided to forgo the perimeter checks and gun. With such a warm day, Natasha simply wore old jeans with a light jacket and boots. Sunglasses were needed partly because it was such a beautiful day, but also just in case someone did recognise her. There were thousands of red-heads in New York, but Natasha had the ability to draw eyes, particularly when they were least wanted.

Natasha was in the center of the park, sitting on a bench in Belvedere Castle with a coffee in her hand, when her phone began to ring. She pulled out the battered Blackberry, a gift from Clint a few years back, and looked at the number. No name appeared on the screen. 011 36 1. She'd seen that area code before. Budapest, Hungary. Out of curiosity more than anything, Natasha decided to answer the call.

"Who's this?" her voice polite, yet with a questionably defensive tone that anyone receiving a call from an unknown number would have.

"Tasha?" the connection wasn't the best, but Natasha knew that voice.

"Clint! Where are you? Fury said you were in Sarajevo last time you checked in."

The voice on the other end chuckled. "Yeah it's me. Been trailing this guy for almost an month and he's not exactly staying still."

Natasha grinned, even though Clint couldn't see it. She quickly looked around and upon seeing a few eyes drifting in her direction, decided to move to a more private area.

"Are you any closer to getting the file?"

"Managed to get it tonight- this morning for you. Just have to tidy a few things up at the safe house. Where've you been?"

"Just got back from California. Fury called for some assistance with the aftermath of Stark's latest adventure."

Clint's sigh was audible on Natasha's end of the line. "Right, sorta forgot about the whole Mandarin thing. How's Stark doing."

Natasha paused for a few seconds, trying to figure out the best answer. "Better." She thought that was probably the most honest answer she could give. Last she heard of Tony, he was rambling about seeing a physiatrist, in which the same sentence Bruce's name was mentioned. Banner wasn't that sort of doctor, but when it came to PSTD he possibly had the best ways of dealing with it.

It seemed like Natasha and Clint talked over the shaky line for hours, although Natasha knew the conversation lasted less than five minutes. It wasn't a normal thing for either one of them to call each other when on a mission, but Natasha was never angry either way. To hear Clint's voice was like music to her ears, but she of all people knew that it was hard to not only find a secure line but actually have time to make a personal call during a mission.

"When are you flying home?"

Natasha swore she could feel Clint shrug all the way in Budapest. "Not really sure. Fury still needs to give me the location of the plane and the other stuff. Probably won't be back for a few days. Why?"

Natasha's heart dropped a little but she didn't allow her voice to falter. "Fury gave me the week off. I don't really see the point in going to the Tower, it's not like I'm going to enjoy myself there anyways."

Clint openly laughed on the other end of the line. He knew how much she hated Stark some days, and reconsidered abandoning the whole avengers' initiative. Clint believed the only reason she didn't back out now was because Coulson wouldn't have wanted to see the team fall apart. Natasha was made a SHEILD agent because of the man; she didn't want to destroy his dreams simply because she didn't like the names Stark gave her.

"Hey Tasha," Clint's voice became soft and caring once again. "I'll be home soon alright? Just don't kill any of them until I get there."

Natasha smiled. The line had become a running joke between the two assassins.

"Fine but if you don't get here within four days, I'm starting the Science Bros mission without you."

Another laugh and a quick goodbye, the line went dead. Natasha didn't look at the phone as she lowered it from her ear and slipped it into her pocket. She couldn't stand being in the park any longer, and decided to head back home. The coffee in her hands was long cold, and after the conversation with Clint, she was desperately in need of another.

The assassin tossed the paper cup into a bin nearby and began to make her way out of the castle and back to the main road. The sun was setting quickly now, bringing the usual crispness which came with the February air.

Once back in the heated apartment, Natasha took her shoes off by the door before proceeding to hang up her jacket in the closet. She never retrieves the old phone from the pocket she had so hastily tucked it into. If she had, Natasha would have seen the text Clint had sent minutes before he had called. The message which only contained a set of coordinates.