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Moscow, Russia: Christmas Eve:
She knew it. She knew people didn't just do nice things with out expecting some sort of payback.
Which is why she didn't trust this man with the storm-blue eyes and didn't believe a word he was saying.
'Look Miss Romanoff, all you need to do is come with me, then you can decide' said Clint Barton impatiently.
Not a man good with words, his patience was wearing thin.
Partly because Agent Phil Coulson expected the Black Widow or Natasha Romanoff to be dead already. Partly because Barton had been arguing for almost an hour with this girl.
And she was obviously injured and bleeding all over the floor. And he hated messes.
They had been standing in an abandoned warehouse for an hour until Barton finally radioed for an evac team, hopefully equipped with medics. The quinjet was due here any moment and he still hadn't convinced the Widow to come with him.
Finally Barton muttered 'I give up' and walked out.
He heard a small thud from inside and turned slightly, knowing that the Widow was known for attacking when her victim's back was turned.
Instead he saw her crumpled on the icy cold, concrete floor.
Completely aware that this was probably a ruse Clint approached her motionless body warily until he saw the dark red puddle on the floor.
There was a slight sound outside.
Clint whipped around, an arrow already notched, pointed towards the man in the doorway. Recognizing the familiar silhouette, he lowered his weapon.
Agent Phil Coulson stepped into the warehouse with a sigh.
'Clint, your orders were to kill her. This is approximately the fifth time this month you have broken protocol.'
'Actually it's the fourth' grumbled Clint.
Coulson knelt next to the girl, carefully turning her over. Instinctively he checked her side, where the bullet had gone in.
'Barton get her into the jet. I'm flying' was Coulson's terse command.
Helicarrier: med bay
Natasha Romanoff still lay unconscious in the bed where the Coulson had placed her after bandaging and cleaning her wound.
The bullet had only nicked her side, enough to draw blood. Not enough to kill.
Clint still didn't know whom the bullet had come from. It was most likely her employers he thought bitterly.
He had been on the roof of the building waiting for her when he had heard the shot and ad cautiously gone inside despite Coulson yelling through his earpiecce.
Looking over at the Widow he found it hard to believe her body count was as high/higher than his own.
She was eighteen, only six months younger than him, but she looked like she was at least two years younger.
Clint had protested to Coulson why he had to babysit Natasha Romanoff.
'Clint I'm not asking you to sleep with her. Stop acting like it's going to kill you.'
'She probably will' muttered Clint 'I'm not a babysitter.'
'I never asked you to be one. I'm asking you to stay with her until she wakes up while I go convince Fury that you have not broken protocol. Again' Coulson responded mildly.
A sudden sound from the bed made Clint look up.
Natasha Romanoff was sitting upright gasping. Her green eyes held a kind of primal terror.
Clint yelled for a doctor as she whipped around to face him.
'Who are you' she snarled.
'Hey relax, I'm-' breaking off in the middle of his sentence as he ducked a punch.
'You probably shouldn't do that. You might-' Clint ducked again 'start bleeding again.'
Her green gaze startled him with its intense coldness and fury.
'Miss Romanoff? We need you to calm down' came a voice from the doorway.
Clint sighed as Coulson walked into the room.
The Black Widow launched herself at him but he caught her and pinned her to the bed.
There were restraints on either side of the bed that Clint quickly fastened around her wrists.
Coulson already had a tranquilizer in his hand that he carefully administered to Natasha.
After a minute she stopped struggling and relaxed, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow and even.
'Clint I need you to stay here.'
'But-'
'Don't even. I'm handling Fury, you can handle her.' Coulson said firmly.
Clint sighed and dropped back into the chair with his book.
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