A few notes on the story: each chapter begins with a flashback, it is almost completely written so updates should come every day, and I will put additional warnings at the top of each chapter as they apply.
This story is rated M for violence, mentions of past abuse, torture scenes, and later sexual content.
Please don't hesitate to review! I would love to hear what people think.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters/organizations/plotlines related to them. If I did, we'd have a lot more Black Widow and Hawkeye.
Thank you ZafiraMente for reviewing and pointing out a problem with my Russian names :)
Moscow, Russia—1993
Natalia knew her Papa was upset during breakfast. Usually he told funny stories and would play games with her using the food. Today he didn't do any of that. Instead he kept sending her funny looks, and Mama kept looking at him funny. Natalia didn't know what was wrong, but she didn't like it.
"Mama," she said. "When will my baby brother be here?"
Her mother smiled at her, "In a few months, dear. And remember, we don't know if the baby is a boy or a girl, so you could get a baby brother or sister."
Natalia pouted a bit, "Can I give it back if it's a sister?"
Mrs. Romanova laughed, "No, you may not. You're going to love being a big sister to anyone."
"Okay," Natalia said dejectedly.
The ringing doorbell caused the family to look up.
"I wonder who that could be," Mrs. Romanova said as she rose to get the door. She was only four and half months pregnant, just starting to show clearly.
Dr. Romanov looked at Natalia sadly, "Natalia, today you aren't going to school, you'll be going with the man at the door."
Natalia frowned; she liked school and didn't want to miss a day. And something in father's tone made her worry. But she nodded because she knew that's what her Papa wanted her to do.
Mrs. Romanova returned with a middle-aged man behind her. He had taken his hat off and held it in his hands. The man smiled at Dr. Romanov then at Natalia, "Good morning Dr. Romanov, this must be Natalia."
She nodded quietly and moved closer to her Papa. This man seemed nice but something didn't feel right to her.
"My name is Vladimir Globa, I'm here to escort Natalia to our facility today," he continued smoothly.
Mrs. Romanova rounded on her husband, "What does he mean?"
"Natalia will no longer be attending her current school, she'll now be attending the institution Mr. Globa works at," Dr. Romanov explained, shooting his wife a look, he'd explain later. "Natalia, go get your coat and shoes."
Natalia ran to obey, returning to the room only a couple of minutes later. She looked up at Globa curiously as she tied her shoes, "Is this school going to be like my old one? Are we going to play games and eat snacks?"
Globa shook his head, "Some things will be the same, but others will be different. This place is for very special girls Natalia."
"Special?"
"Yes, special just like you," he said with a sly grin. "Now we must get going, we wouldn't want you to be late on your first day."
Natalia shook her head gravely and followed the man out the door.
"Have a good day," Mrs. Romanova called, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. She turned to her husband who offered no explanation but merely left the dining room for his study. Mrs. Romanova followed, determined to have her questions answered.
Natalia walked beside Mr. Globa in silence. She wanted to ask him questions, but he scared her, so she chose to remain silent. They walked for a few minutes before her curiosity got the better of her, "How far away is it?"
Mr. Globa looked down, almost surprised to find her walking beside him. "It's not very far, we'll be taking the metro soon."
Natalia nodded and they continued in silence. She had only been on the metro with her parents and it made her nervous to go down with a stranger. She didn't like the metro; it was dark and dirty and there were always too many people.
They spent ten minutes on the train before getting off and walking for another few minutes. Natalia grew more and more fearful with every step they took. She didn't know where she was exactly, and her parents had always told her to stay close so she wouldn't get lost. She spoke up, "Um… Mr. Globa? Can we maybe go home now?"
Mr. Globa turned to her, "But we're almost there! Don't you want to see your new school?"
Natalia nodded, still not completely convinced. Papa had said she had to go with this man, so she would do what he told her to.
They arrived at an old building with lots of spirals and bulbs on it. Natalia knew that buildings like this were special, she liked how they looked. Papa once told her that princesses lived in castles and houses like this. Natalia would like to be a princess… Well, really she wanted to be a ballerina. Dancing was her favorite thing to do and everyday after school she went to the ballet studio and danced.
Inside the building Mr. Globa led her away from the main floor and down into the basement. Natalia didn't like it and considered running, but he had his hand on her back and she knew she wouldn't be able to get away.
They went into another room with a table that had paper and pencils laying on it. There was another man in the room who spoke when they entered, "Thank you Globa, you're dismissed."
Globa saluted and left.
Natalia turned to watch him walk away, she wanted to follow, at least she knew him.
"Hello Natalia, my name is Ivan. Welcome to the Red Room," he said smiling menacingly at her. "Please have a seat."
Natalia climbed into the chair, it was a bit too high for her to get onto easily and her feet dangled well above the floor once she had sat down. "Red Room?" she asked. "Is that the name of this school?"
Ivan smiled, "It's really more of an academy, but yes it's called the Red Room."
Natalia nodded.
Ivan merely watched her for a few moments before speaking, "What do you know about the Red Room?"
She shrugged, "That it's a school for special girls. Like me!"
Ivan nodded, "That's correct. Today you will be taking some tests for me. Can you do that Natalia?"
She nodded vigorously, then hesitated, "What kind of tests?"
"Oh just to see what you know, some math, reading, writing, a little bit of science," Ivan said with a wave of his hand.
"What happens if I don't do good on them?" Natalia asked, her voice small.
He smiled again, "You'll return to your old school, no harm done. But we would really like you here, so you should try to do well on them. Tomorrow we'll have you do more tests, but they'll be different."
An older woman entered the room and saluted Ivan, "Sir, you asked to see me."
"Ah yes," Ivan said, gesturing the woman closer, "Svetlana, this is Natalia. Natalia, this is Svetlana. She'll be overseeing your tests today and tomorrow. If you need anything just ask her. I look forward to seeing your results."
With that Ivan left the room, leaving the woman alone with the girl.
Svetlana glared down at Natalia, "Let's begin."
Minsk, Belarus—2007
Natasha raced through the streets, keeping to the back alleys. She wasn't exactly inconspicuous in her black clothing covered in sewer slime, dirt, and blood. She didn't quite know where she was headed, only that she wanted to get away from the safe house she had been headed to and away from Padashoue's home as well. Coming to a stop several miles from her original location, Natasha pulled a bottle of water out of her bag and drank deeply.
Natasha hesitated for a moment before stepping out into a grungy street. She looked around before ducking into a doorway a few steps away from the alley she had been in. It was an internet café. Dropping her bag to the floor she smiled at the owners and sat to use one of the computers. Working quickly she began hacking into several satellites and government internal websites in the hopes of discovering Padashoue's location. It took nearly forty-five minutes to find the information. Then Natasha wiped the browser history and hurried out of the door, glancing quickly up and down the street she hurried away, even glancing up at the rooftops once.
She kept her head bowed as she walked down the streets, trying to keep from drawing attention to herself. It was plausible that the Red Room already had an asset in the city, ready to hunt her down. Natasha pushed on, ignoring the pain in her leg and arm as the clock she kept in her head began to count down. It turned out Padashoue owned a lavish apartment in the city; a fact which disgusted Natasha to no end. His villa wasn't enough, he needed another home to "conduct business" according to the secure server she pulled the information from, more like to entertain his many mistresses.
Natasha glanced around herself one more time before slipping down into one of the metro stations. She bumped into a man exiting the area, stealing his wallet and thus his metro pass. She swiped into the platform before dropping the wallet into a trashcan and boarding a train. The Minsk underground metro system was the only one in all of Belarus and it remained relatively small with only two lines for the entire city. Taking the metro wasn't Natasha's first choice since it severely limited her.
The train drew into the next platform. Natasha held her breath as the doors opened; she had managed to find a deserted car. Luckily, the platform remained empty and no one entered her space. Two stations later she found a bit of a crowd, there were at least enough people for her to slip off the car and out of the station without drawing attention to herself.
Out on the street again Natasha moved towards Padashoue's apartment, knowing that was where he had chosen to hide for the night.
Clint cursed as he watched the Black Widow disappear into the subway. Tapping his earpiece he radioed in to Coulson, "She's gone. She ditched into the subway after hitting an internet café. Any idea where she could have gone?"
"You lost her? Do you know what she was looking at in the café?"
Clint shook his head in frustration, "Yes, I lost her. Happy? I should have done what you said and taken care of her right away. Now she's loose in the city. And of course I don't know what she was looking at. If I did I wouldn't have called you. She received a call after taking care of her wounds and ended up dumping her phone. I don't think I'm the only one hunting the Widow anymore..."
Coulson's sigh was audible over the line, "Return to base Hawk. We'll keep monitoring any cams we can and hopefully she causes enough noise to find her again. I'll start looking to see what I can find about Padashoue and his current location. Think she'll try again?"
"If she's anything like me she won't let the job go unfinished. Especially not when it was some other assassin that caused it to go wrong."
"Alright, get back here and we'll go from there."
Clint nodded and began heading back to the safe house where Coulson was waiting.
Natasha snuck around the building in which Padashoue currently resided in his second floor apartment. His remaining security guards stood in the hall outside with two inside him. They hadn't thought to post anyone on the balcony outside the bedroom or to place a close watch on the building. The man himself was sitting alone in his bedroom.
Too easy, Natasha thought to herself.
Moving to the floor above her target, she located the apartment above Padashoue's and picked the lock. Inside, it was fortunately empty. This was the first luck she'd experienced the entire mission. Slinking through the rooms she reached the balcony and quickly attached the rope and rappelling gear she had thrown into her bag. The black gloves she slipped on would protect her hands and prevent any fingerprints from remaining after her visit.
Natasha rappelled down to the balcony below, the only sound the slight whisper of her gloves on the rope. Touching down noiselessly, Natasha crept to the balcony door. Her inspection showed that it was in fact unlocked; all she had to do was open the door and take the shot before Padashoue realized she was there.
She didn't hesitate as she threw the door open and took aim at the figure sitting on the bed.
Padashoue whipped his head around at the intrusion, eyes wide with fright as he took in the red haired woman, clad in black, with the gun pointing directly at his face. She pulled the trigger and watched as he fell backwards onto the bed. Blood trickled down his forehead and out the back of his skull, staining the pale blue sheets.
Natasha turned to face the door as the guard inside of the house ran into the room, calling to his fellows outside for help. She downed him as quickly as she had Padashoue. Swiftly moving into the living room area, she found herself faced with the two other guards, both of who had taken defensive positions behind furniture and already had their guns drawn.
"Now boys," she drawled. "Didn't your boss warn you about who you were dealing with? See I'm the Black Widow and you don't stand a chance."
The younger of the two men turned to his companion, questions and fear mixed in his gaze.
"You will die here, bitch," the older one snarled before firing at Natasha.
She stepped to the side before his finger had pressed the trigger and sent her own bullets winging towards the cowering men. The older went down, two bullets embedded in his body. The younger had remained completely covered by his position.
Natasha stalked towards him, refusing to leave any witnesses. She dropped down on him from the top of the chair he hid behind, snapping his neck. Her eyes were hard and cold.
Knowing that she was running out of time, someone would have heard the shots and realized something was wrong, Natasha darted around the rooms setting the charges. She wasn't going to leave enough evidence for someone to trace where she had gone and how she had arrived. She then retreated to the balcony and retrieved her rappelling equipment. Looking at the drop below her she shrugged and took a leap off the railing, twisting and flipping through the air before landing and rolling. The explosion ripped through the air, tearing the side of the building to shreds without doing too much damage. Flames leapt out of Padashoue's apartment.
Another body slammed into Natasha before she could regain her footing and escape from the scene.
Clint had almost reached the safe house when his earpiece crackled to life again. "I found her," Coulson's brusque voice came through.
"Where?" Clint asked, frozen as he waited for directions.
"Head north towards the Crown Plaza hotel. There's an apartment building nearby that's reporting shots fired."
Clint left the rooftops he loved and headed to the streets, knowing he'd be much faster if he weren't having to parkour his way along the uneven rooftops.
Natasha shoved herself away from the new arrival, rolling to her feet and pulling her knife out of its sheath. She let her bag drop to the floor as she surveyed the girl standing across from her. A few inches taller than Natasha with dark brown hair and eyes, she didn't appear to be much of a threat. Natasha knew better. Lada Lavrov was a fellow Red Room operative.
"Lavrov," Natasha greeted coldly. "They must not think you're worth the effort to finish training since they sent you after me."
Lavrov glared, "Quite the contrary, шлюха, they think I'm the new you. So I get to kill you." (whore)
Natasha laughed, a cold and humorless laugh before baring her teeth at the younger woman and raising her knife.
Lavrov pulled out her own blade and dove towards the waiting assassin.
Clint returned to the rooftops before he reached the apartment building in question. Coulson had contacted him again, about five minutes before his return to the roofs, to inform him there had been an explosion at the apartment building. Police and fire were en route.
Picking up his pace he found a vantage point on a building separated from the apartments by an alley. The flames proved that there were no survivors in the apartment. Padashoue was dead. The Black Widow had succeeded.
Scanning the surrounding area, Clint located the flash of red hair that signaled his adversary's presence. Frowning, he looked down below him and found that she wasn't alone. In fact, the Black Widow was fighting this other woman.
He watched in awe as the two women threw themselves at each other with a ferocity he'd never seen before.
Natasha ducked the swipe aimed at her head from Lavrov's knife while simultaneously sending a kick at the other woman's ribs. Lavrov rolled to lessen the blow before recovering and making an attack of her own. Natasha parried several strikes with her knife, remaining on the defensive until she saw an opening she could exploit. Lavrov was sloppy, and she was only getting sloppier as the fight dragged on.
"Run away now, while you can," Natasha taunted. She had figured out that Lavrov's inexperience made her susceptible to her own emotions.
"Why won't you just die like you're supposed to you сука?" Lavrov snarled, her eyes flashing with anger as her mouth twisted into an ugly grimace. (bitch)
The next offensive Lavrov launched was sloppier than the previous ones, her annoyance at Natasha's resistance and her overconfidence in her own abilities causing her to forget the basics of her training.
Suddenly, Natasha stopped retreating. Then she began to advance as she kicked and punched at her opponent, always in motion. Natasha's superior skills and experience gave her the advantage, despite her injuries.
She stumbled when Lavrov landed a lucky hit to the bullet wound in her leg. Lavrov dove for the opening but found herself flat on her back as Natasha swung her leg around in a sweeping kick.
Natasha moved over Lavrov and glared, "They shouldn't have sent you. You never stood a chance against me. I'm the Black Widow." With that she drove her knife into the other woman's heart, twisting as she withdrew the blade.
Wiping the metal clean on the bleeding corpse of Lavrov, Natasha sheathed her knife and stalked down into the alley. She still needed to get away from the scene.
Clint didn't hesitate after watching the Black Widow kill the other woman. He slung his bow over his shoulder and scrambled down the side of the building. Using the fire escape ladders and windowsills to speed his descent. Once on the ground he nocked an arrow and drew back, within a single breath he had released the arrow.
Natasha whirled around as she heard a twang from behind her. She watched as the archer nocked another arrow. The first slammed into her shoulder and embedded itself in the brick wall behind her. She let out a hiss of pain before schooling her face into an expressionless mask.
Clint approached the pinned woman carefully, examining her critically. He still wasn't sure what to make of her. With his arrow trained on her he was able to really look at the target he had been sent to eliminate.
"Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow," he finally said. "You have a lot to answer for."
Natasha glared at him, "Bite me!" she snarled, struggling to free herself from the arrow and the wall. She winced when the pain hit her again.
"Yeah, you won't be getting out of that without help if you want to maintain the use of your right arm."
Clint's earpiece crackled as Coulson spoke to him, "Just kill her Hawkeye, then we can get out of here." Clint ignored it.
"What do you want, Hawkeye?" she asked.
"That's an interesting question," Clint replied. "See I'm not entirely sure what I want... Maybe a beer, a full night's sleep, who knows? But I know what I've been told to do. That is, I'm supposed to kill you."
"Then do it."
Clint frowned slightly, her face remained defiant, but something about her eyes made him pause. There, a slight glimmer of desperation. But desperation for what? Death? Salvation? And was that fear he detected as well?
"What? Is the golden Hawkeye too weak to kill me?" she mocked. "How sweet, you're too stupid to do what you should."
And then Clint figured it out. He knew exactly who she was and what she wanted. He lowered his weapon and took a step towards her.
"Come on you coward!"
The despair in her voice gutted him.
"Kill me!"
He took another step closer. The Black Widow's mask was slipping to reveal the tired and scared girl beneath.
"TAKE THE DAMN SHOT!" she screamed.
Coulson spoke to Clint again, "Barton, neutralize the target. Complete your mission."
"No." Clint Barton's voice didn't waver as he spoke that one single word.
Back in the safe house Agent Phil Coulson grabbed his short hair in frustration as he lurched to his feet. He kicked out at the coffee table before him, cursing under his breath. "Barton, you better have a damn good reason for why you are disobeying a direct order. An order from the Council for Christ's sake. At least take her into custody," he muttered.
Clint ignored his handler, focusing on the woman in front of him who had slumped at his refusal.
Her harsh breathing was the only sound in the alley. It echoed off the walls and filled the air between them.
Natasha looked up at him, confusion and hopelessness written across her face. "Why the hell not? You said it yourself, I have a lot to answer for. I deserve to die."
Clint's head cocked to the side and there was a long pause before he spoke, "I'm going to give you a choice. Come in with me. Work for SHIELD. We take care of our own and it will help you atone for the red staining your past. Or, I kill you now and you die a murderer."
Clint flinched at the sudden increase in volume as his earpiece exploded with Coulson's voice. He ripped it out of his ear and tossed it on the ground. He didn't want to hear what Coulson had to say at the moment.
Natasha forced her breathing to slow and schooled her face back to its emotionless mask. She raised her head and smirked at Clint, "You didn't have permission to make that offer to me."
Clint shrugged, "Doesn't mean I don't mean it."
It was Natasha's turn to study the man in front of her. He seemed to have found something in her, something she couldn't figure out. And he certainly wasn't afraid. Not of her, not of anything, she would bet. The way he carried himself showed an innate strength that few possessed, yet alone were able to call upon, "I agree to come in with you and join SHIELD and just like that I'm forgiven?"
"No, but you'll be able to work towards forgiveness. Maybe you'll never earn it, I don't think I ever can. But I believe you deserve a chance to try."
She contemplated the offer in front of her, intrigued by the fearless archer who made it. She nodded once, "Then I accept."
Clint nodded and moved even closer to her. His invasion of the other assassin's space made both of them nervous, personal boundaries were rarely crossed outside of combat for the two of them. "I'm going to remove this arrow from your shoulder, then I'm going to cuff you," he told her.
Natasha nodded in agreement.
"But first, what weapons do you have on you besides the knife?" he continued.
"Gun on my back, knife inside of my thigh, and my bracelets," she answered, failing to mention the knives stowed inside her boots.
Clint nodded, "I assume that isn't all of them. Just remember, you're injured and I can shoot my bow faster than you could attack me." Clint then located the weapons she had revealed and removed them.
Natasha appreciated that he didn't take the opportunity to grope her.
Clint then went to work getting the arrow out of Natasha's shoulder. He examined the head where it was embedded in the wall and realized it was too deep to cut out. He had managed to drive it deep into the mortar between the bricks. It was wedged too tightly to simply pull it out.
He turned to Natasha, "This is going to hurt. I have to break the shaft then we'll pull you off of the remaining part."
Without a word she nodded. It couldn't be any worse than the pain she'd experienced at the hands of the Red Room.
Clint held back his discomfort as he watched the Widow's expression become even colder when she gave her acquiescence to his plan. He gripped the part of the arrow protruding from her shoulder with both hands and snapped the shaft.
Natasha's mouth tightened infinitesimally as the movement sent a wave of pain racing through her body. The adrenaline was wearing off and she could feel her body protesting. No one would have noticed the slight change, no one except the archer who was standing beside her, watching for any reaction.
"Okay," Clint said. "Go ahead and take a couple steps forward. At least go as far as you can without being in too much pain."
With gritted teeth Natasha pulled her shoulder forward as she did as he had said. The excruciating pain nearly caused her to stop. A few steps and seconds later her shoulder was free, arm hanging limply at her side. She pressed her left hand against her shoulder in an attempt to slow the bleeding.
"I'm not going to cuff you, you can't use one arm as it is," Clint remarked. He turned to look at her bag, "Do you still have bandages and medical supplies in there?"
She nodded and he scooped up the duffle and his earpiece. He turned to face her again and gestured that she follow him. Natasha didn't protest, knowing that with her injured shoulder and leg she risked death if she attempted to escape. By now her survival instinct had overridden her desire to die. The two assassins slipped through the back streets of Minsk moving away from the scene of the disaster.
Natasha frowned when Clint led them into one of the metro stations. Surely he knew they were limited in the tunnels. She was even more confused when he opened the men's bathroom door and gestured for her to enter. Inside he checked that they were alone before locking the main door.
"Sit on the counter. I need to get a look at your injuries," he commanded.
"I'm fine."
"Bullshit. You've been heavily favoring that leg for the last ten minutes and your shoulder is still bleeding steadily. I know you've been in multiple fights in the last day."
Her glare intensified.
"Either you let me look at your injuries, or I cuff you now and force you to let me look at them."
Natasha waited a long moment before moving to sit on the counter between the two sinks. He was right, loathe though she was to admit it, she did need medical attention.
The duffle bag landed next to her with a thump, dangling precariously over the edge of the sink. Clint began digging through it, giving a low whistle in appreciation when he withdrew one of Natasha's favorite knives from the bag. He placed the deadly weapon to the side and continued until he withdrew the gauze and bandaging remaining in the bag along with the few other medical supplies she had. Pulling out a small towel and a shirt he moved away from the bag.
Looking down at the bottle of rubbing alcohol in his hand, he faced his patient. "We need to clean that shoulder wound, my arrows aren't the cleanest objects in the world. Take off your shirt so I can see it."
Natasha moved to extract herself from the piece of fabric, struggling slightly with her dead weight arm. Clint didn't move to help her, nor did he do more than glance at her exposed torso before turning to her shoulder.
The wound continued to bleed, though the blood had slowed more than Clint thought it had. Clint dumped copious amounts of the rubbing alcohol onto the towel in his hands, nodding once at the woman sitting in front of him before he pressed onto the wound. The blood immediately stained the towel red and Natasha hissed in pain.
After cleaning the front of the wound as best he could, he trained his attention on the back, where he repeated the process. This time, the only sign that betrayed the pain Natasha felt was that her knuckles were white where she gripped the edge of the counter.
"You're lucky, it doesn't appear that the arrow hit anything important, just muscle."
"So? Do you want an award for not crippling me when you shot me?" she snarled.
Clint chuckled, it appeared the Widow had more to her than cold detachment from the world. He rinsed his hands in the sink to clean off the alcohol and blood on them. He then prepared gauze packing for the hole and began packing it on. Wrapping layers of bandaging around her should, Clint created a sling to immobilize the limb.
Natasha started to protest the immobilization until he raised an eyebrow, causing her to remain silent. This man was her only chance of survival at the moment, the best thing she could do would be to follow his directions and cater to his wishes.
Next, he turned to examine the bullet hole in her thigh.
"I watched you dig out the bullet," he remarked. "Did you know?"
Natasha shook her head as he peeled back the edge of the bandage slightly.
"It looks like it's stopped bleeding. Be honest, do we need to worry about it right now?"
Natasha shrugged, "I've had worse. And I'll either be dead or receiving medical attention in the next twenty-four hours so I'm not worried."
Clint nodded. "And your left arm?"
"Just a graze."
"What about your ribs?" he gestured towards her torso. "I don't like the look of that bruising..."
"It's fine. I'll be mostly healed in the next couple of days."
Clint frowned, he didn't understand how she could be healed so quickly. The dark red and purple splotches across her body were not something someone could just recover from in a matter of days. However, he knew that he was unlikely to get permission to do any more to help her at the moment.
He turned away and tossed her the new shirt while he repacked the duffel and cleaned up the mess.
Natasha slipped the shirt on as best she could, trying not to jostle her arm too much. He hadn't given her any painkillers so she still hurt, although the risk of infection or bleeding out had lessened.
Clint tapped his earpiece to turn it on as he moved away from Natasha. "Hey, I've got the target in custody. I'm bringing her in now as an asset."
"Barton, I can't help you here. The Council's pissed. I had to call in when you stopped responding and decided to take matters into your own hands," Coulson told his agent.
"I don't need you too," Clint replied. "I just need you to trust me enough to get a meeting with Fury."
"Oh, you have a meeting with Fury as soon as we return to base."
"She needs to be there."
There was a long pause, "I can't promise that. I'll do what I can to make sure she doesn't get shot on sight. Eventually Fury will want to talk to her, but it may not be to offer her a job. You really fucked this one up."
Clint shrugged, "I know. And I'm not asking for you to go down with me if this goes pear shaped."
Coulson's sigh echoed across the line, "I know kid, but I'm going to anyway. I'll meet you at the jet. The scene at Padashoue's apartment has drawn a lot of unwanted attention to us."
"Understood, see you there."
Natasha was studying Clint when he turned to face her again.
"You're in trouble because you didn't kill me." It wasn't a question. It was an observation that he didn't bother trying to deny. There was no point.
"Put these on," he commanded, tossing her a pair of handcuffs he pulled out of the cargo pants he wore.
She did so without complaint, locking her hands in front of herself. Clint walked towards her and checked they were tight as he grabbed the duffle bag.
"You know these aren't going to be enough to stop me from escaping," she remarked, holding up her hands as she followed him from the bathroom.
"I know. But like I said before, I'm more than a match for you right now and we both know it. Consider it a test that you keep those on until someone lets you take them off."
The two assassins traipsed out of the bathroom and back through the empty metro station. They returned to the street where Clint found an average looking car. He quickly jimmied the driver's door lock and unlocked the other doors. "Get in."
Natasha walked around to the other side and slid into the seat, relieved that they weren't going to be walking much more. Her leg was throbbing.
Clint broke open the dashboard beneath the steering wheel, using a small pocketknife he'd withdrawn from his pants. Within a minute he had gotten the car to start and placed himself in the driver's seat.
"Make a habit of stealing cars?" Natasha asked, trying to get a rise out of the man. She knew the little bit of his personality she'd seen had been only what he allowed to slip through. It was time to see who this man really was.
"Only when transporting deadly assassins I'm supposed to have killed," he responded without missing a beat.
The rest of the drive passed in a tense silence between the two killers. Neither relaxed nor attempted to kill the other, it was the best they could hope for in the uneasy truce they had developed. Natasha paid attention to the route they took out of the city towards a nearby private airfield. She didn't think she'd be needing to find the location again, but by now tracking her route had become natural.
Clint parked the car next to the black SUV already present. Natasha raised an eyebrow at the other vehicle, judging the cliché they had parked beside. A SHIELD jet sat on the runway with its hanger door open.
The two assassins climbed out of their vehicle and approached the man waiting for them.
AN: Thank you for reading, please take the time to review if you liked it, hated it, have questions, any review makes me happy.
Preview of Next Chapter:
"Something funny?" Phil asked in annoyance. He couldn't see any reason his agent would be smiling.
Clint shrugged, "We're about to watch Nick Fury vs. the Black Widow. It's bound to be entertaining."