A/N: This is a prequel to Between Past and Present where Clint and Natasha first meet their daughter, and does not take into account the events of Marvel's Agents of SHIELD or Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

Thanks to ladygris for the Beta.

Namaste,

~Sandy

Avengers

Annabelle

A Tag to Between Past and Present

Chapter 1

Five Years Ago

Newport News, Virginia

"I'm sorry, Dr. Rankin. She's gone. TOD, 1427."

Diane Rankin turned away from the doctor and nurse assisting with the emergency C-section, stripping off her gloves, gown and mask. "Wait until after dark then dispose of the body."

No one questioned her orders, now or in the past because they all knew none of them would be working in this field of research without the private investors she brought in. If they balked or outright defied her directives, they wouldn't just find themselves out of a job. They'd be dead. Just like the surrogate, Sarah Barrow.

But the important thing was that the baby girl had survived. Secondary to that was the child's lineage, the DNA that went into creating her. The woman who had died giving birth was not genetically related to the child. And once Rankin had determined that the little girl was healthy, she would be adopted by a family of Rankin's choosing. A family who would raise her as their own while allowing tests to be performed on the child. Of course, they would be well compensated for their time and inconvenience. That's why she would be sent home with her assistant.

"Dr. Rankin?"

"What?"

Her assistant came up beside her, his jaw set in a stubborn line. "We need to talk about the baby. My wife has changed her mind."

"She signed the contract. You both did."

"I know, but she's not comfortable with some of the terms of that contract, and I have to agree with her." They reached her office and he touched her arm to stop her. "A child, even this one, isn't a bargaining chip. She should be with her parents. Her real parents."

Turning to face him with her arms crossed, Rankin radiated annoyance and irritation. "It's only been a few weeks since the invasion made a mess of Manhattan. They're hardly in a position to take care of her at this point."

"They're only two of thousands of people who almost died during the attack. Having her to take care of might be just what they need to focus their energy on life again." He waited a few beats while Rankin thought it over. "Not only that, but it's the right thing to do for the child. She should be with them, not strangers. How else will you know if your theories are correct?"

Rankin opened her office door, the light coming on automatically. "I'll think about it. Monitor her vitals and call me if any problems develop."

"Of course."

Ten days later, Rankin admitted to herself that her assistant was right. The baby wasn't thriving. If she were an adult, Rankin would have to say she was depressed. And if the child died, her research would come to nothing, and the investors could pull their funding.

Picking up the landline, she dialed a number she'd gotten from a friend who worked for the U.S. government. It was answered on the first ring. "My name is Dr. Diane Rankin. You don't know me, but I have something of yours…"

~~O~~

Snorting, Clint replied, "How can you have something of mine if I don't know you?"

"It's a long story. Come to my lab in Newport News, I'll explain."

Clint was about to tell Rankin to go **** herself, but his curiosity was piqued. If this was an attempt to seduce him, an invitation to visit her lab wasn't going to do the job. "What time?"

"Let's say eight tonight? Oh, and bring Agent Romanoff with you."

"She's unavailable. It's just us, doc."

The amiable tone Rankin had used until then changed, her voice going harsh and demanding. "If she's not able to join us, then don't bothering coming yourself."

The voice rattled off an address not far from the Big Bethel Reservoir not far from the Harbor Baptist Church and slammed the phone down. Confused and bewildered, not to mention pissed off, Clint found himself wanting to do the same. It was just after thirteen hundred leaving him with seven hours to wait for the big reveal of this weird mystery. Kicked back in his chair, Clint booted up his computer. "Search all databases for Dr. Diane Rankin."

Unlike the computers in Star Trek, this one didn't make a verbal response. While it was working, he went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and grab a sandwich. Nothing elaborate. Turkey on whole wheat. The bread tasted like sawdust, but Natasha had been nagging him to eat a healthier diet. With the Black Widow, resistance was futile.

The computer beeped and he rushed back to his desk, setting the coffee out of the way and standing in front of the seventy-inch monitor that took up most of one wall. Touching the screen, he dragged most of the info off to one side and minimized it. The one document left he enlarged next to a photo of a woman in her forties with dull brown hair cut in a short, unflattering style, brown eyes and an arrogant smile.

Rankin, Diane Elizabeth, M.D.-Ph.D.

DOB: 12 July, 1964

Place of birth: Twin Falls, Idaho

Parents: Rankin, David Lester and Rankin (nee Chester), Melanie Francis, both deceased

Siblings: None

Place of employment: SHIELD research facility, Quantico, Virginia (terminated 17 February, 2008).

Attended: Johns-Hopkins, University of Romania, Texas Tech University Health Science Center School Of Medicine

Area of Study: Human Genetics

Sentenced to five years in Peyton Medium Security Penitentiary. Released after serving two years due to good behavior

Current whereabouts unknown

Arms crossed, one finger tapping his chin in thought, Clint continued to read about Diane Rankin. He even skimmed one of her articles though he only understood parts of it. "What does a geneticist want with me and Nat?"

Dragging the personal info out of the way, Clint pulled up one of the doctor's articles written for an online magazine geared toward medical professionals. Nearly all of it was way over his head, and he knew it would be the same for Natasha. He considered not going, but his curiosity wouldn't shut up. The spy in him wanted answers to this mystery and the only way to get them was to show up at the appointed place and time with Natasha.

Scooping the phone from the desk, he dialed his friend and partner. "Hey, it's me."

"What do you want, Clint? I'm busy."

"You got plans for tonight?"

She huffed into the phone and in his mind's eye he could see the scowl. "If it's any of your business-which it's not, yes I do."

Grabbing his coffee cup, he returned to the kitchen for a refill. "Cancel them. We got a mission. Sort of."

"What are you talking about? I just got off the phone with Hill and she didn't say a word."

"This is a personal mission. Just the two of us." Clint told Natasha what he knew-which wasn't much-and finally she agreed to ride out to Newport News with him. She would swing by his apartment and pick him up at fifteen hundred. The drive was over two hours and they wanted plenty of time to scope out the place before the meeting with Rankin. In the meantime, he would continue digging.

~~O~~

"Don't see anything unusual. Makes me more'n a little twitchy," Clint said into the headset in Natasha's right ear. She had climbed onto the roof of the building across the street from where the meeting with Rankin was to take place while he completed a perimeter sweep.

"Me too. I checked out security."

"And?"

She sighed with annoyance, quietly so Clint wouldn't hear. "A little overdone for a research facility. Sentries armed to the teeth, motion detectors, floodlights, booby traps. Nothing we can't handle."

"Then I'm comin' down. Let's go eat."

Natasha put away the binoculars and returned to the car. Clint joined her shortly thereafter and they drove down the street to a casual restaurant for dinner. Using a code they'd devised themselves, they planned out how they would gain access without going through security.

At precisely twenty hundred hours, Natasha and Clint burst in to the main lab where five men and women in white lab coats were working at a variety of equipment whose functions escaped Natasha.

Clint yelled, "Freeze!"

The scientists looked up with little interest and returned to their work, all but Rankin who came to stand in front of the agents. She looked them over with a brash smile. "Right on time. And please put those weapons away. The equipment doesn't respond well to gunfire."

Clint demanded, "Why did you call me? What do you want?"

Rankin turned her back on them and headed for a door on the other side of the lab saying over her shoulder, "Come with me and I'll explain."

She stopped at the door when they didn't immediately follow giving them a pointed stare. Natasha exchanged a glance with Clint and together they followed Rankin down a long hallway to another door. The card reader beeped and the door clicked. She pushed it open then went in ahead of them.

Inside, Natasha's eyes scanned the room left to right while Clint performed the same task in the opposite direction and coming back to Rankin with puzzled frowns. There was a bed, several tables and cabinets as well as a small kitchen area. A woman in scrubs was sitting in the corner with a tablet pretending she hadn't seen them.

"First things first. Scrub up and put on these gowns." Rankin took two folded pieces of cloth from a drawer and placed them on the counter then stood out of the way while first Natasha then Clint did as she said. Natasha knew without consulting him that Clint was prepared to go along with whatever Rankin requested of them, but only to a point. If she didn't get near a point soon, they'd be having words and Clint's language could get very colorful, and not just in English. Like her, he spoke several languages. The ones they used most often with each other after English were Russian and French. With Russian being less common, they frequently used it to communicate in relative secrecy.

The doctor motioned them forward. Clint glanced over his shoulder when the door clicked shut behind them then followed when Natasha took slow and precise steps over to the where Rankin was looking down at the figure in the bed.

Together, Natasha and Clint said, "Bozhe moi!"

~~O~~

Lying in the crib was a sleeping baby less than two weeks old dressed in a pink body suit with a pink cap and wrapped in a blanket. The little girl sighed in her sleep startling Clint. Few things scared him and babies were one of them. In his entire life, the closest he'd come to a baby had been at the orphanage, and even then he hadn't been allowed to hold one. Sometimes at night, he'd hear one or more crying, and after that he always found it difficult to go back to sleep. Moving a step closer, he carefully rested his hand on the rail and let Natasha question Rankin.

"Dr. Rankin, why are you showing us this child?"

"So you can see first-hand what my work has accomplished. The work that Director Fury tried to stop me from doing. If he'd succeeded, this child would never have been born."

Taking a chance, Clint reached out with one finger to touch the tiny hand, gasping when the fingers latched onto him. "Hey, hey, doc. She's, uh…"

Rankin seemed unconcerned. "It's a natural instinct to seek comfort from another, Agent Barton, whether that comfort comes from other humans or animals."

Her tone told Clint that Rankin was in the small percentage of humans who shunned physical support from anyone. Rankin gently pried the baby's hand from his, and Clint was surprised that he missed the complete trust that he'd been shown without having done anything to earn it.

Natasha came to stand at his side, peering quizzically at the baby. Clint didn't know what made him do it, but he took her hand and placed her finger where the baby could grab hold. She made a small startled jump but didn't pull away.

His voice low to keep from waking the baby, Clint again asked, "Why us, doc? And I don't just mean SHIELD. Why us specifically?"

"I was led to believe that you were the two best agents SHIELD had ever produced. However, neither of you are living up to those reputations." Clint heard the contempt in Rankin's voice she didn't bother to try to hide and found it getting on his nerves. Natasha too, if he read his partner correctly.

Over her shoulder, Natasha flashed a scowl though she didn't make a comment. Not out loud at least. Clint knew what she was thinking though because he was thinking it too. There could only be one reason that the former SHIELD researcher had called them instead of other agents. And Clint found himself wanting to cover his ears and hum so he couldn't hear what was coming next, but that would've been childish and immature. There was no doubting that he could be both at times, but this wasn't one of them. Another thing he didn't like was that smirk.

"Congratulations, Agents. It's a girl."

TBC