Author's note: Please see my story, Poker Face, for information concerning my take on Natasha's history. It is vaguely referenced in this story, but I don't think you HAVE to read Poker Face to understand this one. I appreciate any and all feedback you are willing to give me :)

{Disclaimer: Some portions of this work (including but not limited to characters, plot, and backstory) belong to Marvel and its affiliated companies. I do not own them, I'm just borrowing them for fun.}

"Hello?"

The greeting came out reluctant. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to her, per se, but she knew he was in deep cover. He wasn't supposed to use the SHIELD-issued cellphone. But he answered because he was…worried about her. They hadn't talked in a while. He knew she'd been working with Steve recently and how much it affected her. He was used to the way she hid her emotions – she couldn't hide anything from him.

"Hang up and call me back on a separate secure line," she ordered him. His blonde eyebrows rose in surprise, but he did as she asked. He flipped the phone closed and shoved it in his black uniform pants pocket. He had just been getting ready to go out, to do his job, when the phone had rang. He almost didn't answer…

It took him a few minutes to sort through his duffle bag to find his personal smartphone. The midmorning sun streamed through the bedroom window and reflected off the phone; he scooped it up and stood from his easily crouched position. He dialed her number from memory and held it up to his ear, waiting.

She picked up immediately. "Clint?" Her voice sounded breathy, not in the no-nonsense tone she had taken before.

He stiffened. Natasha didn't do this. She didn't do the panicked phone call. She didn't panic, period. "What's wrong?" He didn't even need to think about it before he offered, "Do I need to come home?" As important as his missions were, she would always be worth more. They were partners, and that was more important to him than any protocol or how upset Fury would be.

A long pause went by, and it was only when she sniffed that he collapsed against the wall as an iciness gripped his heart.

Natasha Romanoff was crying.

"Yes," she said finally, and her voice was steady. She must've gotten herself under control. "Well, no. Just-" He waited as she gathered her thoughts. "Don't do anything, actually." She paused again. "SHIELD's been compromised."

Clint ran his bow-worn fingers through his short blonde hair. "What do you mean, SHIELD has been compromised? Like, Fury? Or…" He didn't finish, but hoped she wouldn't say Loki was back. The thought of his mind being used again by that monster…

"All of it. SHIELD is gone, Clint."

He stood up from the wall and began to pace. His boots sank into the carpet and he gripped his cellphone tighter as he tried to make sense of her words. "Gone? How can SHIELD…" He huffed out a breath angrily. "It's a big agency, Nat. It can't just be gone. I've only been out for three weeks."

"You have to believe me," she insisted. "Hydra – the Nazis that Steve fought against in the forties – have been growing inside SHIELD. And now…it's just gone. All of it. We had to-" she stopped. It was a few seconds and a sigh from her later before she finished, "I released every file SHIELD had online." She hurried on as he opened his mouth to question her. "I had, to Clint. You have no idea what we've seen the past few days…"

"So…" He pinched the bridge of his nose, still not quite understanding. "SHIELD went online and exposed this…Hydra?"

"Add in getting betrayed by people you thought were friends, Fury faking his death, and getting shot, and you've about scratched the surface."

He frowned even deeper. "Are you okay?"

She didn't answer for a while. "Yeah. But…he was there."

Clint stopped pacing. She didn't have to elaborate; the emphasis was enough. They had only talked about the Winter Soldier a few times, mostly contained within the rare talks she let them have about her past. That was why she had called, then. Yes, he needed to know the SHIELD had been hijacked – who know which side he was really working for now? And was this mission that he was on even SHIELD ordered…or Hydra? But that wasn't her main reasoning.

"Natasha. Tell me you killed him for me," Clint practically growled. What that…monster had done to her was unforgiveable. He wished that he had been there just so that he could've shot the winter Soldier himself.

"Get this," she answered. "He's actually Steve's best friend from the 40's. I guess…" He heard her take a deep breath through the phone line. "They've been, um, brainwashing him. Like they did when…You know."

He did, of course he did. He was about to say something along the lines of 'So what?' when she continued.

"He's gone, now. But Steve said he was going to try and find him, like help him…recover."

Clint's eyes closed and his free hand squeezed into a fist. He couldn't recover. The Winter Soldier didn't deserve it. He was about to tell Natasha so when he remember who he was talking to. Too many people had told him that Natasha hadn't deserved the second chance he had given her either.

It didn't make the thought of her getting hurt (again) any easier.

"Are you okay with that?" he finally questioned her quietly.

Her answer wasn't immediate, which said more than her actual words. "No. Not that it matters. I'm not helping him," she told Clint firmly, referring to Steve. He wasn't sure how to respond. He definitely didn't approve. But was that a gut instinct or his protectiveness of Natasha talking?

One could say that Clint and Natasha were closer than they ought to be. Their careers alone stood in the way of anything close to friendship. But…he had saved her, once. And she had saved him back.

"I'll be back as soon as I can get an extraction team-" he started.

"No, Clint," and he could practically hear her shaking her head, "you don't understand. There's no extraction team coming. Hydra was a parasite that killed off SHIELD." He still wasn't sure how much he believed her until she continued, "The new Hellicarriers? That was all Hydra. Even Alexander Pierce was Hydra."

Clint sucked in a breath – he hadn't considered that possibility. How many people had they lost? He didn't ask the question out loud, but as usual Natasha was adept at reading his mind. "Nothing is left," she said softly, resigned.