Ok, first - sorry for not posting more chapters for the Lone Hawk story. I still got some that I wanna write. But right now, I'm taking part in National Novel Writing Month and am quite busy enough with Francis Partridge and his friends and enemies. I finished this before NaNo, however, and since my beta sent it back to me with comments and there wasn't much to correct or change, I thought I'd get to it and post this instead. It's set way before the Avengers-movie - when Hawkeye and Black Widow first started working together. Enjoy!
You don't have to
Tasha stopped for a moment before she entered the safe house. Took in several deep breaths. Closed her eyes for a few seconds. That operation had been – taxing. She felt every single cut and bruise. Those guys definitely had known how to hit to cause maximum pain without damaging the "goods" too badly to be of any value. As a result, she had been almost limping here. It didn't matter as long as no one could see her. Barton was waiting for her inside, though, and she didn't want him to notice. So she took a moment to take in the whole amount of pain the bruises and cuts were causing her and then, just forced it all to the back of her mind – the way she did when she was injured in a fight.
He'd probably notice anyways. That guy wasn't called Hawkeye for nothing. But that didn't mean she didn't have to make an effort.
Determined to move and act normally, Tasha entered her passcode to unlock the door and climbed the stairs to the top floor. She silently cursed Barton and his preference of high-up places. "I see better from a distance", indeed. The only benefit of the top floor was that it couldn't be reached easily, should they be discovered. It would take attackers some time to get there. Unless they used a helicopter and dropped right on top of them. But unlike SHIELD's quinjets, a helicopter could be heard well in advance.
Alright, so maybe Barton had a point but she'd be damned if she ever told him so.
He must have been waiting for her because he opened the door the moment she reached it. He didn't ask whether she was okay. And scored bonus points for not talking at all, in fact. Not even when she finally was seated on the bed she had chosen as hers when they had arrived here three days ago.
He leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest, and just looked at her.
Tasha frowned. Was there plaster missing on that wall behind him? He wasn't leaning there to hide the damage from her, was he?
"What happened to the wall?" she asked.
He moved away from the damaged spot to look at it.
"That? Dunno. Plaster fell off."
Since he also turned slightly, Tasha just barely spotted the scraped knuckles on his right hand he also was trying to hide from her.
"Just like that, huh?"
"Just like that."
He returned to his original position.
It only occurred to her now that he had been listening all the time. He had heard everything that had happened over his earpiece. Everything. Her screams, her crying, her begging – everything. Another indicator of how exhausted she was. Of course, she should have been aware of that right away.
She looked at him. At the wall.
"I was just acting the part, you know?" she told him.
Barton gave her a surprised look, then glanced at his scraped knuckles. He dropped his arms and stuffed his hands in his pant-pockets.
"Got everything we need?" he asked.
He wanted to distract her attention from the wall and his hand. He knew perfectly well she had. He'd been listening, after all.
Tasha nodded.
"What about those guys?"
"Dead", she told him.
"All of them?"
She gave him another nod.
"Good."
Barton turned away from her.
"Get some rest. I'll take first watch."
He grabbed his bow off the table and had left before she could protest. Not that she didn't welcome the opportunity to rest. It wasn't as if Barton had caught a lot of sleep, either, during the past few days, though. Not if he really had been listening to everything. And it seemed he was more upset about what he had heard than she was about what had been done to her. Which was just kinda silly. Whatever they might throw at her, she could handle it. She was Natasha Romanoff, for god's sake. The Black Widow. Trained to be a first-class assassin and undercover operative for as long as she could remember.
She pulled her boots off and fell back on the bed.
She was one of the best. As deadly as the spider she was named after. She'd seen worse and lived through worse than what she had been subjected to those past few days.
For a moment, she considered following Barton to the roof, just to show him she could do it. And to tell him she didn't need any special treatment, thank you very much. She wasn't one of those delicate females that fainted when they saw a little blood or something like that.
On the other hand –
Tasha turned to lie on the side that hurt least.
She'd rest first. Just a little. Then, she'd go up there and tell him it was her turn now. And to cut the crap because she was fine. The last thing she needed was him kicking up a fuss about her, back at HQ. She needed her record with SHIELD to remain spotlessly clean, at least for the time being. She was still on probation. Drawing too much attention wasn't good unless it was the right kind of attention.
The smell of coffee drifted into her sleep and slowly pulled her back to awareness. Tasha blinked and opened her eyes.
Several things weren't right.
It took her a few seconds to figure it out. It wasn't the coffee. Of course, Barton would make coffee to ensure they were wide awake when their pick-up arrived.
What wasn't right was that it was him making the coffee. She'd been supposed to head up to the roof after getting a few hours' sleep and take over from him, hadn't she? Thus, it also should have been her taking care of the coffee.
The blanket was another thing. It hadn't been covering her when she had fallen asleep. He must have come downstairs some time during the night and, instead of waking her, put that blanket on her. Curse that man. He just didn't get it, did he?
The third thing that wasn't right – and she really should have noticed that first – was the light. In order to reach the rendezvous point at the appointed time, they would have had to set out at six in the morning. The light was too bright for six in the morning.
With a curse, Tasha sat up – and almost groaned in pain. Of course, all those bruises and cuts were hurting more today than they had been yesterday. She was tempted to just sink back into the pillows, close her eyes and not move for the rest of the day.
"A good morning to you, too."
Suddenly, Barton was standing next to the bed with a large mug of coffee in his hand and his trademark smirk on his face.
"Why didn't you wake me up?"
Tasha threw the blanket aside and leapt to her feet. The movement made her want to groan again and probably looked a lot less elegant and fluid than usual. More like an old rheumatic Russian babushka than the infamous Black Widow. At least, that was how she felt.
"Whoa, slowly!"
Barton took a step back.
"Slowly? We're missing our pick-up."
Tasha grabbed her left boot and looked for the right one. She had put them both here last night, she remembered that much.
"No, we won't. I called HQ and re-scheduled it to tomorrow evening."
"You – what?"
Tasha straightened and stared at him.
"Why on Earth would you do that?"
"Honestly? You look like you've been run over by a truck and probably feel like it, too. So I thought you could use some more rest –"
"Oh, really?" Tasha cut him off.
How could he? How could he go over her head like this? What she needed or didn't need wasn't his decision.
"Why would you think that? I've been through worse. I can take it."
She glared at him. She knew this special kind of glare usually terrified everyone it was directed at. Not him, though.
He just shrugged.
"Yeah, I know", he said. "I was chasing after you for over a year before I finally managed to catch you, remember? It's not as if I haven't seen you in action before. Or that you have to prove anything to me. Or Fury. We know you're tough and that you can take it. Point is, though – you don't have to."
Barton put the coffee-mug into her hands and gently pushed her down on the bed again. She was too stunned to resist.
"And besides – I can use the break, too. You're one hell of an actress. That performance you put on for those guys was really Academy Award worthy, at least if you ask me."
He returned to the small kitchen on the other side of the room.
"How about some toast and scrambled eggs?" he asked over his shoulder.
Tasha stared at the mug in her hands.
He was right. She really didn't have to prove anything. She had already proven herself to the whole world. Everyone knew – well, not who she was but what she could do. That was what had got her on SHIELD's blacklist, after all. She had interfered with them – with their plans, their people – once too often. They had decided to stop her and sent their best agent after her. Barton. She didn't know how long he had already been after her when she had finally noticed him but if he said it had taken him more than a year to catch her, he probably was telling the truth.
And him admitting that he needed a break, too, made all of this – well, not so bad.
Tasha slid back on the bed and propped up the pillows so she could sit more comfortably. She pulled the blanket over her legs.
Barton turned round and gestured at the small fridge.
"So?"
"Scrambled eggs and toast sounds good", she said and took a sip of her coffee.
Strong enough to wake the dead – just as she preferred it. Okay, so if they both could use a little time-out – why the heck not?
Tasha inhaled the scent of the coffee and took another sip.
"I didn't know you could cook", she said, watching Barton crack eggs into a pan.
This was the first time they were sent on an operation together that took longer to complete than just a few hours.
He gave her another shrug.
"It's not that unusual among field agents, really. SHIELD standard rations aren't too popular. And since you can't order food in when you're stuck in a safe house … I wouldn't actually call this cooking, though. This here is about the best I can manage."
"Good enough for me."
Certainly better than SHIELD standard rations, it turned out.
Barton joined her for breakfast and the rest of the day, she spent mostly sleeping. By the next afternoon, when they had to leave to catch their pick-up, she indeed felt much better. Not that she would have admitted it to him. Not that she needed to. She was pretty sure he knew anyways.
Back at SHIELD headquarters, Tasha was told the director expected her for her debriefing in an hour. That gave her more than enough time to shower and change into a fresh set of clothes. After that, she hurried through the corridors to the director's office. Better be late than early – Fury didn't like to be kept waiting and she didn't see the point in annoying the one man who basically could have her eliminated whenever he felt like it. He didn't trust her. Which was just as well, since she didn't trust him, either. She wasn't used to trusting people.
She did indeed arrive a little early for her debriefing. Instead of knocking on Fury's door, she decided to use the time to go over what she was going to tell him once more and try to prepare for whatever questions he might ask her.
Behind the door, she could hear Fury's voice. She didn't understand what he was saying, though.
Barton spoke next – and she had no trouble to understand him because he was actually almost yelling.
"I don't care whether she's the most qualified for this kind of shit. You could have handled this in a different way and still got all the information you needed. There was no need to –"
At this point, Fury cut him off with a sharp command. Unlike Barton, he didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to. With him, it was all in the way he looked at you and emphasized certain words.
Tasha moved away from the door, down the corridor – just enough to pretend she was just arriving when the door opened and Barton left Fury's office. He glanced at her when he went past her but didn't say anything.
The debriefing went better than she had expected. Better and at the same time worse, because Fury was regarding her with a thoughtful look all the time. She wasn't sure whether she was just imagining it. When she had finished, he didn't speak at once. Instead, he kept looking at her. She forced herself to maintain her appearance of calm and not start fidgeting on her chair.
"There will be a change regarding you and your work", Fury finally said.
"Sir?"
Tasha straightened. Her first thought was that Fury was going to take her off field-work and she cursed Barton because it was all his fault. His outburst before –
"You will be partnered with Agent Barton", Fury went on.
Tasha was stunned. Of course she had known field agents usually worked in pairs. It had never occurred to her, though, that she might be teamed up with Barton. They had been working together since she had joined SHIELD, true, but not too often and only for smaller operations. This latest one had also been their longest and most important one, so far.
"Why?" she burst out.
"One, you need a partner if you want to keep working in the field. Two, you two are the best we've got and you seem to be working together well enough. And three – because he requested it and I saw no reason not to grant his request."
Requested? Barton had requested it? Probably so he could keep an eye on her. Of course, he would report back to Fury directly when she stepped out of line. That was why Fury hadn't objected to his request. He knew he could count on the archer. And of course, just in case she changed her mind about working for SHIELD, Barton was the one who would be able to take her down. He had almost succeeded in doing so once. In fact, if he hadn't changed his mind, for some strange reason, she would be dead now.
But that didn't quite fit with what she had heard outside in the corridor. Barton had sounded genuinely angry. And what he had witnessed over his earpiece, back in the safe house, obviously had upset him enough to punch the wall so hard the plaster had come off.
"Since you will be working together, you'll also need to get to know each other better. Barton will set up a new schedule for joined work-outs", Fury went on.
Of course – they weren't really expected to get to know each other on a personal level. But they had to know how they both "worked" in battle. Know how the other one would react in all kinds of different situations.
"You're both on leave for the next week. Then, I expect you to get to work", the director finished.
Tasha wondered whether she had to thank Barton and his outburst for the time off or if Fury had known right from the start what he would get her into and had always planned to put them both on leave.
"Will that be all, sir?" she asked.
Fury gave her a nod.
"Until further notice – yes."
He didn't say it out loud but it hung in the air between them: Don't mess up, Romanoff.
Barton was waiting for her in the corridor outside her quarters. She stopped.
"You and me, Barton?" she asked and shook her head. "Not a good idea if you ask me."
"Good thing I didn't ask you, then."
"Fury said your requested being partnered with me."
He shrugged.
"I like you."
That earned him one of her trademark glares.
"That's not why you requested it", she said.
"No?"
"No."
She hesitated for a moment.
"I arrived a little early for my debriefing and I heard you yelling at Fury."
"Thought as much", Barton said.
"I can take care of myself."
She turned away from him and since she didn't know where else to go, started walking in the direction of the mess hall. He followed her. Of course.
"I know", he said, "but –"
"Let me guess", she cut him off. "I don't have to?"
He grinned.
"Right."
She scowled at him and he grew serious again.
"Look, I know you can be a friggin' one-person-army when you wanna be. And that you're doing okay on your own. But you're with SHIELD now. It's not you against the whole world anymore. We're partners now. You watch my back, I watch yours. That's what partners do. And besides –"
He hesitated.
"Besides what?" she asked.
"Well, you know what the Chinese say: If you save someone's life, you're responsible for them."
Tasha snorted.
"I'm pretty sure the Chinese never said that. And you didn't save my life – you spared it."
"Pretty much the same in my book", Barton said. "And never mind whether the Chinese said it or not – it's how I feel, so it doesn't really matter whether it's true or not."
Tasha stopped and turned to him.
"You feel responsible for me?" she asked, surprised.
Once more, Barton shrugged.
"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be here now, right? It was my decision not to kill you but bring you here."
She couldn't argue that.
He smiled.
"Besides, I really like you. You got a way of scaring the heck out of people that I can't help but find –"
"Don't say anything wrong now", she warned him only half serious.
"Endearing?" he suggested.
"Endearing?" she repeated.
"Okay – admirable."
Tasha nodded.
"Better."
They walked on in silence for a while.
"So – how do we proceed?" Tasha finally asked. "I mean – obviously, we're both on leave for a week. But after that, Fury wants us to get to work. Work at what exactly?"
"Work at learning to work together as a team", Barton said. "At getting to know each other."
"And how's that supposed to happen? We sit down to play 'Twenty Questions' or something like that?"
Barton raised his eyebrows and smirked.
"Oh, I definitely got some questions I'd like to ask you."
Tasha scowled at him.
"I'm pretty sure I wouldn't care to answer them. Or explain to Fury how you ended up dead."
He laughed at that.
"See, that's what I like about you. You don't take shit from anyone."
They had almost reached the mess hall.
Barton stopped.
"You know – there's gonna be lots of people in there, having dinner."
Tasha frowned.
"So?"
He shrugged.
"Nothing. Just thinking."
"Thinking what?"
"Well …"
The look he gave her was way too wide-eyed to be genuinely innocent.
"What do you think – if we work together, how many of them can we make run away screaming?"
He grinned.
He had to be joking.
But he also was looking at her kind of expectantly. Maybe he was serious.
Tasha called up a mental image of the mess hall – the rows of chairs and tables – and did a quick estimate of how many people it could accommodate.
"I don't know. Half of them, maybe?"
Maybe more if there was a significant number of fresh recruits.
"Right, deal."
Barton stuck his hand out at her.
She hesitated.
"Fury won't like that", she pointed out.
"Of course he won't. That's the point. Him and Coulson will probably burst a blood vessel each. At least. Which, if you ask me, is only fair considering that mission we just came back from."
Ah. Payback. So she really hadn't imagined it – he had been upset.
"You know," she said, "if you put it like that –"
She grasped his hand and gave it a good squeeze.
"Deal."
Barton's grin took on a slightly sinister quality.
"I'm looking forward to working with you – partner."
Fury looked at the stack of paperwork on his desk. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was a pretty high stack. Complaints from SHIELD-personnel that recently had been scared right out of the mess hall by Barton and Romanoff. Obviously, those two had put on quite a show. After disabling the security cameras – so he had no way to check whether it really had been that scary or whether people were just exaggerating.
"This is entirely your fault", he told Coulson, pointing at the stack. "It was your idea to partner those two."
"I will have a word with them", Coulson said.
He seemed unfazed – as usual. Fury doubted there was anything in the world that could actually rattle that man.
"You have to see the bright side, sir", he went on. "At least, we know now that they can indeed work together – and do so very well."
"Yes, indeed, they do."
Fury glared at him.
"And it's good training for the recruits", Coulson added. "They will be seeing worse, after all."
He was right, of course. Yet, still …
"Well –"
Fury sat down behind his desk.
"Since this was your idea, I think it's only fair you be their handler, right?"
He looked up at Coulson. Who, to his satisfaction, didn't look quite as unrattled anymore as he had a moment ago.
"If you think that'll work …" Coulson said.
"Oh, I think it'll work just fine."
- End