A/N: Heellllooooo my friends, long time no post, it's been a while since I've updated/posted any stories but ever since the first Avengers movie I've become a big fan of the pairing Clintasha, and have since then endulged in the many fanfics. But, after the tragic outcome of Avengers: Age of Ultron, where my ship was shattered, I have decided to take it upon myself to write my own fanfic about them since it will most likely never happen.
Anyway on with the show! Please R&R!
He sat up violently, gasping for breath as the violent images plagued his mind. Their faces, the people he was worked with being tortured and killed by his hands.
It had been a month or so since the battle of New York City where the Avengers had taken Loki and his alien army down, since he had been taken control of. And yet, he still felt the guilt for ending the innocent lives he had. He saw their horror-stricken faces as their lives had been ended by someone they considered a friend or ally. Every time he closed his eyes he could see them, every last one of them.
He swung his legs to the side of his bed and raised his shaking hands to wipe the sweat from his face. Like blood.
He released a shaky breath before bending down to retrieve his t-shirt that he'd discarded in the night, 'Jarvis, what time is it?'
'It is 3.21 am, sir.'
'Freaking great.' He mumbled to himself as he silently made his way out of his dark room. For the past month now he'd barely gotten three hours sleep each night and it was starting to show its affect on his body, his muscles aching to take a break from the strenuous exercise that he tried to fill the void of pain with.
The large, open living room was silent as the inhabitants slept on through the night. He turned on the light and winced as the light flooded the room, his retinas burning. He rubbed his eyes as he made his way over to the kitchen counter-top and around to the coffee machine. He switched it on before riffling through the cupboards for the coffee and his mug. The machine beeped as he retrieved the milk from the fridge and some pop tarts from Tony's 'secret stash' that he'd tried to hide from Thor, but not from Clint. That pissed Tony off big time as he constantly ran out and Clint chuckled at that thought.
Coffee made, Clint grabbed the throw off the back of one of the coaches, carefully stepping around the large piles of notes that Banner had scattered around the coffee table before stepping through the sliding doors and onto the balcony overlooking New York City.
He loved being up here, way above the city lights, his vantage view overlooking the still-busy streets allowing him a sense of peace. Away from the busyness and confusion it gave him some peace and quiet for his scattered brain to think a little bit.
He wrapped the throw around himself and settled with his legs dangling over the edge of the balcony, holding the mug up to his face and breathing in the amazing aroma of his coffee. He was damn sure going to take advantage of Tony's ridiculous spending and made sure to put the best coffee beans on the grocery list. He munched on the ridiculously sweet pop tart and sniggered to himself at the thought of Tasha telling him he'll 'rot his teeth out' if his diet continued to consist of coffee and sugar.
Tasha.
Things had been different between the two of them since the battle, he could barely look at her without feeling the horrible sense of dread that can with the thoughts I almost killed her. He didn't know what he would do if that had happened and shuddered at the state-of-mind he would be in if he had. Years ago after receiving orders to eliminate the infamous Black Widow, he'd made the decision not to kill her but instead bring her in and their relationship certainly started off rocky. Their personalities crashed, hers a tightly-wound, rule abiding killing machine and his a carnie prankster who never took anything seriously. He chuckled at the memory of how one of his jokes on her had turned out.
'BARTON!'
Her voice echoed throughout the training complex as she came storming in looking wildly around the room of new recruits that looked up at her with scared faces. When the news that the famous Black Widow was working for S.H.I.E.L.D had spread around the base, a reputation had been built up about her which made everyone wary of her besides a handful of agents. She would walk through the hallways and people would dart out of her way, too scared to look her in the eye. This didn't bother her as she preferred to be left alone anyway, people bothered her.
It seemed that only three people on base that were civil with her, Director Nick Fury who didn't take crap from anyone, Phil Coulson, Clint Barton's and her soon-to-be handler, and the nut bag himself.
Clinton Francis Barton.
'BARTON!'
The recruits scattered out of her way as she came to stand in the centre of the room.
'Barton, you'd better get your freaking ass over here right this second, I know you're in here and I thought I'd let you know that I know your computer password and will not hesitate to release your internet search history to the entire base!'
A creak was heard from above her and she looked up and watched and he swung from the rafters until he was hanging upside-down in front of her face.
'Come on now Tasha, it was only a joke, surely even in Mother Russia you know what those are.'
She glared at him before lifting one of her Widow Bites to his face and blasting his face with the silly string that he'd put into them. He fell from the rafters in shock as she dowsed him from head to toe.
'You think this is funny?'
He quickly wiped it from his face and grinned up at her, 'Yeah,'
'We're supposed to be professionals, you know that I'm still on probation until the Council clears me!'
'But Taaaaaasssshhhaaa!'
She gave him a death stare that would've sent any other agent running but he gave her a small grin and started to retreat backwards and she advanced towards him, the other agents moving out of their path.
'DON'T call me Tasha!'
'It was a joke! Cause you're a spider, you shoot webs? Get it? Spider webs? Black Widow? Why do I have to keep explaining this stuff to you, it's funny!'
He felt his back hit the wall and his grin slowly slid from his face, and she stalked up to his face, their height difference apparent as he looked down at her slightly, but he knew that although height played in his favour, her petite body was a match for his bigger build any day, most days taking him down.
He suddenly felt a sense of dread as he watched her face slowly morph into an evil grin, 'What, like when I left you in your boxers tied to a pole on the roof of headquarters?'
He paused for a moment before taking off towards the exit, hurdling to various equipment in his path and he heard her chasing him out of the room, 'You'll never catch me Spider!'
'Watch me Hawk!'
Clint laughed gleefully to himself as he dashed through the corridors of S.H.I.E.L.D, throwing apologies over his shoulder as he knocked an intern off of his feet and catapulted up the stairs in a haste to get away from his nimble companion. She swiftly kept up with him as she formulated all the different ways she could kill him, and so far? She'd thought up 94, and counting.
'You're getting slower Widow, what's your problem, eh? Are you too chicken that-' He slammed into something solid and was throw backwards as he slipped on some silly string on the bottom of his shoe. He groaned and felt the bruises that would surely form on his butt before glancing up to what had hit him, his face going pale.
The eyepatch stared down at him, the black attire he was wearing drenched with multi-coloured string, a look filled with annoyance and anger seething from him.
'Barton,' Fury spat out, 'My office. Now.'
'Well shit.'
They'd been partners for so long now that she was all he had left, his best friend, his partner, his- someone. He didn't want to go there right now and he'd suppressed his feelings this long so he could hang in there a little while longer. He couldn't wreck the only real friendship he had at the moment when he truly needed it. He only had her now that Coulson was gone.
His heart wrenched at that thought and he let his head drop forward to rest on the glass pane in front of him. Coulson was his handler, his mentor and friend, the brother that Barney never was and now, now he was gone.
He knew that Nat was hurting from Coulson's death too, as she too had no one else in the world that she was close with. Her past with the Red Room had led her to have trust issues with almost everyone and it had taken Clint years to break down the walls she held to protect herself. Their recent stay with the other Avengers in Stark Tower had been a shock for her at first and taken some getting used to, but he knew that she was trying and that was all that mattered.
The presence of the other Avengers made him feel like he was needed and that he was a part of something. Tony and Bruce had taken to themselves to lock up one of the labs and conduct wild experiments between them and constant explosions could frequently be heard around the tower, which would make Pepper growl and complain as she'd call for a clean up crew. Thor would come from Asgard every so often to visit them, requesting movie nights whenever he could as he found them fascinating. Cap would train in the gym or ride his motorbike, or trying to get updated with technology, Tony's patience quickly wearing thin at the 'incompetence of the Capsicle'. And well Natasha, she could be found either sparring with himself in the gym, reading Russian literature or stealthily pulling pranks on Stark, often aided by the person who had most recently been pissed off by the billionaire.
He knew she'd noticed his lack of sleep and she would soon bail him up about it, so he'd avoided her which only seemed to make things worse. She was his lifeline, and without her, he was slowly drowning.
The bitter cold air became too much for him and he quietly retreated back inside and closed the door softly behind him. After depositing his mug in the sink and his uneaten pop tart in the 'hiding spot', he made his way to the stairwell that lead to the bedrooms, climbing them until he reached the furthest one. He paused in the doorway of Natasha's room and silently poked his head to check up on her. He knew that sometimes her nightmares got too much for her as well and he felt it was his duty to make sure she was ok. His eyes adjusted to the dark and he took in her silent form and he slipped into her room, making sure to approach her slowly as to not wake her up. He knew that if anyone but him approached her, even in her sleep, her body would be alert and the knife that was surely under her pillow would be imbedded in their thigh. But Clint knew that even subconsciously, she didn't perceive Clint as a threat. He'd learnt from past experiences not to invade her space too quickly or her instincts would kick in.
Natasha was lightly dozing on the couch outside of Fury's office, having come home from a particularly bad mission, Clint's jacket draped over her. Clint had tended to her wounds and dressed them, and told her that he would handle the debriefing with Fury and Coulson, as long as she tried to get some sleep as she had been awake for almost 48 hours. At first she refused, adamant to not show any signs of weakness or vulnerability, but after they'd settled on the couch in the corridor outside of Fury's office, she'd nodded off on Clint's shoulder and he'd gently laid her down to rest.
They were halfway through the debriefing when they'd heard a sharp cry from just outside the door and Clint sprang up and opened the door quickly and found Natasha holding a knife to the poor analyst who'd unfortunately accidently stumbled onto Natasha's unconscious form. Just as she was about to slice the woman's neck open, Clint tackled her, rolling them both over until he'd locked her down on the ground. He finally caught the hazed look in her eyes, realising that she was having a nightmare, a particularly bad one. He barked at a fellow agent to pull the analyst out of the way as he tried to get a handle on the thrashing woman beneath him.
'Nat, wake up its Clint!' She struggled against him, screaming in pain as she saw the things that haunted her from her past.
'Fire! Make it stop!' She had started to sob and Clint was at a loss of what to do, until he saw Coulson slowly kneel down and injected the syringe in his hands into her neck. Clint felt her slowly go limp below him and after confirming that she was out cold, he released the pressure from her, sitting back on his heels and looking up at Fury and Coulson.
'What the hell just happened Barton?'
'She's been having nightmares and refusing to take medication. I think it may be a withdrawal side-affect from the memory loss drug the Red Room had her on. It has been happening a couple of times over the past month sir.'
Fury frowned, 'We need to get her to medical and get her checked up.'
Clint interjected quickly, 'Sir, I think she may just need to get off base and catch up on some peaceful sleep. If we could get some time off sir, I could handle it.'
'Sir, they are overdue for a week or so off duty.' Coulson added in.
'Fine, get her out of here and report back to me on Monday at 0900 hours.'
'Will do sir.' With that, he hastily scooped her limp body up and slipped quickly through the SHIELD corridors, not wanting to draw much attention as he knew she would hate that this situation happened in public.
As he was walking through the car park towards his car, he heard her murmur, 'So sorry….let down.'
Clint had barely known the girl for a year and could already tell that she was consumed with regret and guilt for all that she had done, and knew he couldn't make it better instantly. All he could do was help her see that she could do good and save lives like Coulson had made him realise.
She was barely 18 and he only knew the surface details of what her short life had entailed and it was not pretty. Exteriorly, she was a stone-faced agent who abided by the rules and killed mercilessly, but he had slowly start to see the young girl, fragile and vulnerable, that was scarred from many years of torture and manipulation, both physically and mentally.
Clint had been through a different life of regret and distraught, and knew that although he didn't know how to help her mentally, he could certainly help her sleep which could be the first step of recovery.
He settled himself beside her bed and took to watching her as she dreamt. Clint liked her like this, her short, curly red hair slightly tousled from rolling in her sleep and the adorable frown that even in her sleep maybe her look like a grumpy angel. He smiled as he saw that she was wearing his Rolling Stones t-shirt, the one he knew she stole even though she denied it. Her creamy skin was luminous in the soft light that hit her face, and all Clint wanted to do was kiss her worries away and hold her tight. Instead, he reached up and tucked the lock of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead gently before retreating from the room.
Natasha's eyes fluttered open as she saw the familiar figure slip from the room and her frown returned as she thought about what his presence meant. He'd been avoiding her for a while now and she knew he hadn't been sleeping, she was wondering when exhaustion was going to knock him out or if she was going to have to interfere.
She lifted the blanket back up around her chin and settled back into the expensive sheets, she'd worry about him when she woke up. After all, she had Tony's ass to beat the following night so she needed all the sleep she could get.
A/N: And that's the first chapter done and dusted! I've nearly finished chapter 2 so please R&R and then I'll get to updating soon!
Much love
C xx