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Natasha Romanoff woke up screaming. She was shaking so hard she couldn't even breathe. Her hands were knotted tightly in the sheets. There was a crashing noise and her partner Clint Barton stood in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the low lit corridor, he was at her side in three steps. "Shhhhh...Tasha its okay, it was just a nightmare". Natasha just clung to him sobbing, Clint was always shocked to see her acting this...this... well this human. He sat on the bed with her curled in his lap, crying into his shoulder. He knew what her nightmares were about, he woke up often enough to hear her screaming out his name.
One night she had actually grabbed this face and made sure that the blue energy Loki had inserted into him was gone.
Clint still had nightmares about how he would have killed Natasha if Loki had commanded him to. He would often wake up drenched in a cold sweat, but Natasha was always there for him. She would hold him in her arms until he passed out, or she would slip him sleeping pills until he drifted off. Only a few nights ago Clint had woken up only to realize that he had been screaming Natasha's name. There had been a slight rustle at the door and Tasha had slipped in silently. She had climbed in to the narrow bed beside him and he had rested his head on her shoulder. Neither one of them had gotten any sleep that night.
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After the Initiative had ended and Thor had gone back to Asgard with Loki as his prisoner, Clint promised Tasha that they could do anything she wanted to, for one full weekend with no interruptions meaning no Iron Man and no SHIELD, just the two of them. On the Friday after the Initiative,
Tasha said "Barton, pack a weekend bag and get in the car. I'm driving."
"Great does this mean I also need a safety helmet?" responded Clint, laughing.
Natasha punched him lightly in the arm "Hey my driving isn't that bad" she said.
"What about you?" Clint asked.
"I've been packed" responded Tasha.
Two hours, one coffee/bathroom break and three wrong turns later, Natasha finally pulled into the gravel driveway. Clint woke up just as she parked.
"Hey sleepyhead, all the arguing tire you out" teased Natasha.
"Okay so remind me again where the hell are we?" Clint asked.
"Well if you looked around maybe you could see the view" was the slightly sarcastic reply.
Clint stepped out. For once he didn't have anything to say except for
"Romanoff you picked a frickin' awesome place."
They were parked in front of a small cottage, just barely visible through the trees was a beach and a literally sparkling blue expanse of water.
"Oh and apparently there's also horses to ride on the beach" Natasha tossed over her shoulder with a playful grin "Don't worry there is a caretaker for the horses so you won't have to muck any stalls."
It was almost five o'clock when they got there so Natasha suggested they just eat dinner and go to bed. She could also see that Clint was exhausted.
Later that night Natasha woke to the familiar sounds of Clint's terrified screams. She managed to shake him into consciousness. It always hurt her watching him start thrashing in the sheets, as sweat broke out on his forehead and then watching him wake up, scared and vulnerable.
"God, Tasha why do you keep saving me?"
"I owe you" she replied simply. "Do you want any sleeping pills?"
"I think I'll go without..."Barton replied unsteadily.
As the two of them lay back down, Natasha's head on Clint's chest, she thought about everything that had brought them together; Budapest, the mission where Clint had nearly gotten killed, and when they had first met.
Moscow (10 years ago)
He had first seen her walking into the Novaya Opera Theatre on the arm of some guy who was approximately twenty years her senior. The way her flame colored curls stood out against the ebony silk dress she had been wearing. As Clint Barton watched from the rooftop of a neighboring building he marveled at how young the Black Widow was. He was only twenty, and she nineteen, but here glittering under the lights, wearing diamonds, and looking drop-dead gorgeous, she could have easily pulled off twenty-five or so. Clint knew his mission, kill her and get out. He wasn't expecting what actually happened. As he walked in to the Opera House,dressed in a tux (at Coulson's command), Clint tried desperately not to think about how ho and itchy the suit was. Carefully concealing himself casually behind a column, he found her: the Black Widow aka Natasha Romanov. He walked up to her, she didn't seem surprised to see him there.
'So what did you do with him? Cut his throat and dump his body off the roof?' asked Clint sarcastically referring to the man she had come in with, who coincidentally was nowhere to be seen.
'Oh no, that would be such a pity, especially for someone who got me the most wonderful vodka, don't you think?' she responded. Her english was flawless, the faintest trace of a Russian accent barely detectable. For the first time Barton noticed what she was drinking.
'Whoa shit you can't drink that you're...you're...'
'Underage?' responded Natasha dryly. 'I know why you're here. Just...do it quickly, okay?'
For once Clint was speechless. He didn't know what to say. She wanted to DIE? Then he realized what he had to do.
'You know I can take you back to SHIELD and-'
'And what, live happily ever after?' she said sarcastically with a bittersweet smile on her face.
'Well, no, not exactly. Maybe just letting you live and….' He stopped, unsure whether to go on or not. She was staring at him like someone who was given a bow and a curved arrow and told 'shoot straight'.
'Dammit. Why?' she hissed at him, her eyes filled with pain.
'Why what?' Clint asked confused.
'Why won't you kill me?' she asked, her voice cracking slightly.
'I don't need to….' He said. Unknowingly the two of them had wandered out to the now deserted plaza. Clint made a split second direction. With Coulson's voice in his ear demanding to know what the hell he though he was doing, Clint swung his fist up and hit Natasha on her forehead. She collapsed in his arms, still fighting for a minute until she lost consciousness completely.