The Spy and the Painting
by J. Merrick

Chapter Two

One second Natasha felt like she was being squeezed through a really small tube, and the next she was sprawled out on the ground feeling like her entire body had been hastily torn apart and reassembled. Master of her craft that she was there was only one response to this feeling.

Which was to violently expel everything in her digestive system up to and including all the bile in her stomach, naturally.

She looked up to see that she was no longer in the open air hanger of the MDC. Instead her senses were being assaulted from all angles by that of a windswept beach. The air was biting, the water was causing the smell of salt to billow through the air, and she could feel the sand clumping into her hair. Shaking her head while pushing the growing thought out of her head about how she really should just chop most of her hair off, she looked around for the man that had brought her here.

After a few moments she found him, he was quite hard to miss as they appeared to be the only people for miles. He was standing stock still on top of a hill with his hands out to his side, as if he was both expecting to launch into a fight and was woefully bewildered at the same time.

Natasha got her first real look at the man while slowing approach from behind; he was giving off the same vibes of a massive danger that Dr. Banner gave off, and Fury had warned that the artifact (which had turned out to be a painting) held a being more powerful than Loki. This man had apparently come from the painting, and not only healed every injury in her body but had then transported the pair of them to this unknown location.

He was, in a word, powerful.

He also had shed the robes that he had been wearing before at his feet and she could see he had a body which reminded her of Stark's. He was on the short side, but he had almost a glow of presence about him. His hair was long, as was his beard, and both looked like they had been neglected for at least weeks. She again acknowledged to herself that he looked as if he had just walked off a battlefield.

He turned around as she got closer and it was again that she was drawn in by his eyes. She noted they held a note of sadness in them now, almost as if in pain of regret. Then she noticed the scar, in the shape of a lightning bolt, on his forehead.

"Ah, all in one piece?" he asked in a jovial tone, his voice cracking from apparent lack of use.

"Should I be?" Natasha questioned, raising an eyebrow at the man who laughed.

"Yes, wouldn't want such a lovely bird to be missing bits," he looked down at his chest as he said this before looking back up to her, "Do me a favor and watch over my body for a bit, would you?"

Natasha was about to question what he was talking about when he collapsed in a heap on the ground. Natasha ran forward to make sure he was okay and noted that he was completely out of it, didn't even respond to a slap across the face.

She stood up and looked around, and noticed that the only thing she could see for miles around was a burned up shack that was about five hundred feet away.

"Well," she said to the heap at her feet, "This is just great."

X X X

"Hawkeye, just go sit in the corner," Fury said in his calm voice, which meant that he was anything but.

"Sir, why?" Clint responded, walking into his office with Agent Hill.

"So I don't have to look at your dumb ass, now move!" Fury roared, his anger finally bubbling to the surface, "Now do either of you want to tell me exactly how not only has my best field agent gone missing, but so has the artifact that the two of you were sent to retrieve?"

"Sir, Agent Romanoff was just entering the compound when Agent Barton mistook a hand single she gave as the go ahead for phase two of the mission," Agent Hill started, giving a quick look at Clint who was currently sitting in the corner out of sight from Fury, "I gave the go ahead to accelerate the capture of the artifact and salvage the mission. It was after all a bag and tag."

"Then how the hell did Agent Romanoff go missing?" Fury bit out, before turning so his good eye could stare in Clint's direction, "Please tell me that Agent Barton had something to do with it."

Clint visibly swallowed before picking up the story, "I was fighting my way into the compound when Agent Romanoff was kicked in her shoulder causing her hand to come in contact with the artifact. When this happened a bright golden light was emitted from the artifact knocking everyone in the immediate area off their feet. When I got to my feet I noticed that a man in robes the style of Loki's was standing over Agent Romanoff. They exchanged some words before they both literally 'popped' away."

Fury stared a hole in Clint, multiple questions running across his face before he seemed to finally settle on one.

"Agent Hill," Fury started, still boring a hole into Clint, "Is that what the camera's picked up?"

"Agent Barton is telling the truth, sir," Hill replied, as Fury brought his hand up to the bridge of his nose and turned away from Clint.

"Has anybody been able to track down where this man 'popped' away with Agent Romanoff to?" Fury questioned, walking to his desk.

"No sir," Hill replied, "Her tracker failed the moment that she and the man disappeared."

Fury sighed, actually looking slightly worried. It was a sight that few in SHIELD every got to see, and it was usually a harbinger of a great amount of difficulty in the future.

"Start a satellite trace for her," Fury said, directing his comments at Hill, "Put all agents on High Alert. Also get Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark, and Dr. Banner in her as soon as you can. Tell them that the end of the world is nigh if they question why they're needed."

Hill immediately walked out, hearing the dismissal in Fury's voice. Clint stood up, and started to walk towards Fury.

"Agent Barton," Fury said, "Did I tell you that you could leave your corner?"

Clint stopped dead in his tracks, "Well, no sir."

"THEN GET BACK IN IT!" Fury roared, "I'm holding everything that happens as a result of this mission personally on you, and you are staying in that corner until either we find Agent Romanoff or I get sick and tired of my new Hawkeye plant!"

Clint sat back down, he had a feeling he was going to be there a while.

X X X

Natasha took stock of everything that she had on her. The mission bag had been left behind when they had left, all the electronics that she normally kept on her person (including her phone, and her GPS tracker most frustratingly of all) were either unresponsive or melted, and her clothes (her typical leather jumpsuit) were torn all over the place.

She luckily still had her guns on her, and she only hoped that the man in front of her wasn't as unresponsive to them as most of these mythical beings were.

She had picked the man up and carried him to the burned out cottage, noting that he was a lot lighter than he looked. She also noticed that even in his passed out state that he looked to be in a state of duress, a state that she knew that she looked like whenever someone observed her in the same state. In a way it brought a note of empathy to her mind – no matter if someone was her enemy or not she always could feel when another being was trying to outrun their past.

This man pulled on every single one of those feelings.

She had rifled through all his pockets, and was surprised that she found absolutely nothing in them. She had walked through the cottage that appeared as if the only reason that it was still standing was through magic and found that it showed all the signs of not only a fierce battle, but of being abandoned for years. Everywhere she walked, though, she could feel as if energy was lingering in the air along with a sadness that she just couldn't put her finger on.

People thought that as an assassin and spy that she was cold, and unfeeling. Very few knew the truth, that she was very empathetic, it was what made her so good at her job. It was easier to walk through her day to day life giving the portrayal that she didn't care; it helped her from forming personal attachments. With the way her life had been before Clint had found her and introduced her to SHIELD, she couldn't afford attachments.

They were too dangerous.

She walked back down the stairs and she immediately felt something was wrong. She slowly turned around and that's when she noticed that the man was now standing there.

"Hello again," he said, looking around as if he was taking stock of the situation, "Thanks for watching over me."

He gave her a quick look and she could tell that he was sizing her up.

"Don't remember if I introduced myself before, but I'm Harry," he said, extending his hand out to her, which she hesitatingly took. She did her best not to show that she felt power radiating off of him as he went on, "I must thank you for letting me out of that painting. It was quite boring in there."

"You were in that painting?" Natasha asked before she could stop herself.

"Long story, but yes."

"Why were you in there?" she asked again. She was surprised when he chuckled, and then was even more surprised when he waved his hand and two chairs appeared out of nowhere. He waved for her to sit down as he did so himself.

"That is a long story, and one that I feel you should know the answer to," Harry said, bringing his hands to his beard. Natasha was surprised again when he removed his hands from his face and his beard had disappeared, leaving behind a face that was made on angles. He waved his hand again and she saw his clothing mended itself, before he waved his hand at her causing her own clothing to mend as well.

"Before I start," he said, the last wave of his hand seeming to bring a bit of strain to himself, "What is your name?"

"Natasha," she replied, wondering what the full extent of his powers were. What he had casually done so far was worrying if he was as dangerous as Fury had implied.

"Pretty name," he replied with a smile, "You don't look or sound like you're from England, or Germany."

"I'm Russian," she replied, before adding, "Well, I was once."

"I knew a few people from that area back…years ago," Harry replied, his eyes going distant for a minute, "Which I guess is part of my story."

"Tell me Natasha, you seem like a woman of action. What do you do with a weapon that you don't need anymore?"

"You put it away until you need it again," she replied without emotion.

"Precisely," he stated, turning his attention back to her, "I was a weapon, and I ran out of uses. Because I was deemed too dangerous by my people I was to be hid away until I was needed again."

"What people?" Natasha asked.

"Tell me Natasha," Harry began, "do you believe in magic?"

"Yes," she replied, having seen what she could only describe as magic not only in the past few minutes, but before in the Avenger's fight against Loki.

"There once was an entire community on this planet, and there still might be, made up of practitioners of the magic that I wield, "he continued, "A great war happened, and most of us were killed off. In the ensuing months and years after what we thought was the final battle, even more of us kept dying off. Those of us that were smart and had learned the signs of evil knew that our fight wasn't over."

Here he sighed, the menace of years creeping into his face and voice, "But the people in charge only believed that the reason Death was still visiting and slowly killing off my world was because I was there. So they decided that I needed to be locked away where I could no longer harm them, but they – and only they – could retrieve me if things didn't go as planned."

"Why did they decide that you were the reason everyone was being killed?" Natasha asked, being very careful not to let suspicion drain into her voice. Instead, she let empathy show through. If this story was real, it had the elements of tragedy in it.

"Because I am the Master of Death," Harry replied, with a smirk on his face as he was fishing for a reaction. When none came except for confusion, he continued, "I had beaten Death itself twice that these people had known of. There is a spell we can use that literally summons Death to collect a person, and as far as everyone could tell I was immune to it. I was a "freak" as they would say.

"It was decided that my very existence offended Death, so I was locked in the painting."

He paused in his story, and looked at Natasha, "I won't lie, there was a fight to get me in there. I could have kept running away, but when my own friends showed up to help put me in…I let it happen. So there I stayed until you freed me."

He chuckled for a second, the laugh sounding like a bit of music to her ears, "Thanks for that by the way. I owe you a lifetime of favors for that."

Natasha ran his entire story through her head, knowing that he was leaving parts out. It just seemed too…tidy. He started speaking again, "How did you find me, by the way?"

"An organization of terrorists known as the Mow Dock Consortium had found the painting you were in," she started, deciding to be honest, "My organization, which is dedicated to stopping all threats to worldwide stability, caught wind that they had come into a massive weapon. As the MDC is not known to be competent, it was decided that the weapon had to be removed from their hands before they did something."

"That's why you were in such a fight," Harry murmured, taking her story on face value, "You probably need to get back to your organization don't you?"

"I believe they are probably searching the globe for me as we speak," Natasha slowly replied, almost in hesitation.

"Think about where you need to meet up with them," was his reply, as he stood up, "I'll take us there, I'm pretty sure they have a few questions for me as well."

"What do you mean?" she questioned.

"Bring into your mind where you would normally be meeting up with your people," he replied, laying a hand softly on her forehead, "I can bring us there. Just try."

She closed her eyes, knowing that at the moment she was more or less at his mercy. She immediately thought of Fury's office, before she felt an outside presence slip into and around her thoughts. She gasped as it left just as quickly as it entered.

"Holy on tight Natasha," Harry said, with a small smile, "And try to keep your lunch inside this time."

With a 'pop' the cottage stood empty again.

End Chapter Two

Author's notes: Without giving too much away: was an evil released? Yes. Who or what is it? You'll see.

Before anybody says anything, Hawkeye isn't going to be incompetent in this story; I was just having some fun with him for a bit. He'll be back to normal soon.

Until next time, thank you for all the reviews!