Note: This first chapter is a short one, as I was in a rush to get it finished. Set before the Avengers movie. Based off of this post on tumblr: (x)

"I'm in position."

Natasha lowered her hand from where it had reflexively reached up to tap her earpiece, even though she knew that these new high-tech comms could pick her up loud and clear without it.

"So am I." Barton's voice came through without so much as a crackle. Natasha almost looked around to see if he was standing next to her. Very nice. "So any idea why Fury's so pissed at us that he sent us on the easiest recon op in the book?"

"It's not the easiest." Natasha responded instantly. She wasn't in the mood for complaining. In and out - that was how she worked best. Solo. Maybe Fury really was punishing her for something, sending her on an op with the one agent most likely to get under her skin.

"No, that's the Banciu job that Harris and Koblevski got stuck with after their Iraq mission." She could hear the smirk in his voice. He wasn't exactly subtle about the disdain he held for certain agents. "But seriously Romanoff, did you do something the piss him off?"

"Not that I'm aware of." Natasha said coolly. Anytime you want to shut up and concentrate on the job...

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. They'd been sent to an old church in Munich, where there had been reports of people mysteriously disappearing from the grounds, never to be seen again. It was a bust op because they had a million of these "bermuda triangle" cases that people swore up and down were mystically haunted, but ninety-nine percent of the time were false alarms. The church was gorgeous, though - tall spires, beautifully crafted balconies, stone staircases swirling around and around. There'd been one like it where she'd lived for a few years as a child. Maybe if she was normal, she'd be feeling homesick right now. Maybe if she'd ever really had a home, there would be something to feel homesick about.

They stayed until the light blew away and she could feel her limbs locking into place. The church closed to the public in the evening, leaving them free to get some rest until the sun rose, and the tourists with it.

"Meet you back at the hotel?" Barton asked, and Natasha answered in the affirmative, running to catch a train that was just about to leave the station. She glanced back at the church one last time as they were leaving - and although Natasha would consider herself to be a very non-superstitious person, something gave her a quick chill. Like there was something there, something that hadn't been there before. She shook it off. They were looking for actual evidence here, not a gut feeling. Even if her gut feelings were usually right.

For once, she was glad to be gone when the day faded into the pitch black of the night.

When she hopped off the train and jogged into sight of the hotel, she was only a little surprised - if irritated - that Barton was already there. How he'd managed to beat her was a mystery - she'd grabbed the first train available, and he hadn't brought a vehicle with him. And she didn't like being one-upped - wasn't used to it. Even if it was at something as simple as getting around the city.

"So that was a bust." Barton said, falling into stride beside her as they made their way up the stairs to their respective rooms. "Still no luck figuring out why we got sent on this op?"

"Maybe Fury wanted to teach me a lesson in patience." She muttered under her breath, and was a little surprised at the chuckle he gave.

"Maybe he wanted you to expand your horizons, Romanoff. Learn to play nice. I am your main link to S.H.I.E.L.D., after all."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Natasha asked sharply, put on edge by the question. Barton raised his hands in surrender.

"Relax, Widow. I'm just saying - they still aren't sure about you. You've proven yourself, I don't doubt that, but some of the council members still see you as the rogue assassin you were." And now I'm associated with you. That was the unspoken part of his statement. And then the answer became clear: they were both gaining back the trust of the council. Completing an op together - even if it was just a recon job - was one step towards that.

They'd reached their floor. "Sleep well." Was Barton's offhand comment as Natasha swiped her key card. She almost laughed.

That would be the day.

When she woke from the nightmares, gasping and clawing at her arms, it was five in the morning. Just about time for the sun to rise. She delayed leaving the bed for a minute, savoring the warmth of the sheets. Then she rolled off the edge, standing as she grabbed the phone and dialed in the necessary codes.

"Agent Romanoff." The warm voice came onto the line after two minutes of the usual passcode confirmations.

"Agent Coulson. We'll be heading out shortly, but so far nothing to report. The church area seems like every other - quiet at night, swarming with tourists during the day."

"Yeah, well, it's on the list for a reason. Keep me updated on your progress."

"Will do, sir." The line went dead. Natasha grabbed the few things she needed for the day's stakeout and walked over to the door. She opened it to see Barton, hand raised to knock. He blinked a few times.

"Good. We can leave right away." Natasha said coolly.

"The progress report?"

"Already called in. Agent Coulson says that the church 'is on the list for a reason'." She couldn't help a bit of sarcasm from leaking into her words.

"At least he doesn't think it's a shit mission." Barton said, already turning to leave. Natasha took a quick step to catch up to him, falling into place as they descended the stairs and exited the glass panel doors at the entrance to the hotel.

"Yeah, that makes it better." She responded. Barton shot her a look, and when he answered his voice was a bit harder than she was used to.

"Give Coulson a break, Romanoff. He was the only one who backed my play when I brought you in."

That made her clam up. She'd known that he'd defended them - of course she'd noticed Coulson's edgy attitude around the council members. But she hadn't known that he'd been the only one. It seemed she owed him a debt almost as large as the one she owed to this man walking beside her.

They took the train together this time, not being in such a rush. There were only a few other people on the train, and the hushed sound of the train was suprisingly relaxing. The sun was just beginning to rise when they exited the station, the light touching on the stone walls of the church.

"I'll take the south end again." Barton said; not really a question, but Natasha nodded her acquiescence anyway. She slipped the comm into her ear as she hiked up a hill to the same spot she'd found the day before. There was a nice little area with some foliage cover that was perfect for surveillance. "Testing comms."

"Loud and clear, Romanoff." Again she resisted the urge to turn and see where Barton was. Damn these earpieces. "Hey, if there's nothing by this afternoon, what do you say we split and check out that little cafe around the block?"

"We're on a recon op." Natasha said slowly, gritting her teeth. He was infuriating.

"Alright, straightlace, don't get all worked up. Just remember it was your idea when we've gone 18 hours without anything to eat."

"It's the op description -" And then she broke off, because she was getting that feeling again. And there was definitely something that hadn't been there before.

"Romanoff? Hey, you there?"

"Those angel statues." She said, slowly. "Do you remember them being there yesterday?"

There was a long pause. She knew he would be assessing them as thoroughly as she had, going over his memories from the previous day.

"No." He said, and in that instant something changed. Something was going on here, something unnatural. This was no longer a bust op. "You think we should go check it out?" It surprised her, the small act of him asking her opinion. He was better at teamwork than she.

"Let's wait until the tourists head out. The less witnesses we have, the better." The silence on the other end of the comms signaled the end of the conversation. Natasha settled into a more comfortable position from where she was perched. It was going to be a long day.