Author's Notes
Who's dreaming who is the question as Sara has another intense encounter with the mysterious and dangerous Ronin
With the new year well under way, Natasha and Fury are both keeping secrets from each other as the Director attempts to find out the truth about Sara and her parents.
Natasha allows herself a moment of cautious optimism as a mission is successfully completed and new bonds are formed.
Marvel Characters are based on the Marvel Cinematic Universe and are copyright to Marvel and Disney. Their use here is for purely non-commercial entertainment purposes
Strong eroticism and some adult language.
Reviews and comments welcome
"I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck, with a pink carnation and a pickup truck"
His voice was high and clear with a raw, bluegrass, edge. Ronin didn't bother looking up as Sara entered the shack. He sat singing to himself, bare-chested and cross-legged, cleaning his rifle, with his t-shirt wound around his head like a bandana.
"But I knew I was out of luck the day the music died…"
"Who are you?" she asked quietly, almost to herself "Why are you always in my dreams?"
"You know who I am baby…" He looked up at her with those piercing grey eyes "and why d'you think these are your dreams?"
He put the rifle down and stood up, walking slowly towards her. Sara stepped away, suddenly fearful, feeling the coarse mud brick of the wall against her back. Ronin smelled of dust, sweat and oil, his bare skin radiating heat as he bent and kissed her neck, the stubble of his chin and cheek grazing her gently, deliberately.
"Maybe this is my dream" he whispered, hoarse and low "Lonely Ronin in the dusty night; hoping for Lovely Sara, sweet as honey, to take the hurt away."
Sara put her hands to his chest with the thought of pushing him away, but he let out a long, heartfelt sigh.
"Your hands are so cool, baby…" he closed his eyes and drew in his breath "fresh, like summer rain."
She tried to push but he drew her in closer, pressed so tight she could feel him hard and ready through the coarse fabric of his camouflage pants.
There was something wrong about this, dreams weren't meant to be this vivid; this real. Sara was possessed by a sudden, urgent desire for escape and she twisted to try and break free from Ronin's grip as he moved in to kiss her.
"Don't run from me" he hissed, tightening his arms around her "It's dangerous."
"Please… Ronin…" she pleaded. His voice softened but his hold on her remained firm
"Don't run from me, Lovely Sara, please…" he was almost begging "They stole something and I don't know what…"
She took his face in her hands and looked into his eyes, so like Clint's but for the cold harshness of the stare. Behind that, looking deeper, she had that same sense of a lost and frightened child trying to protect himself from a brutal world.
"I don't understand" she whispered, pressing her forehead to his "What's going on? Dreams shouldn't be like this…"
Ronin pressed his lips to hers hungrily; his strong, warm, tongue probing deep into her mouth while he tugged her loose summer dress away from her shoulders. His mouth tasted of cigars and bourbon, bitter and stimulating, and Sara responded eagerly to the kiss; needing to taste more of him, while her dress fell around her feet in a puddle of sea-green silk.
She was naked underneath and he growled deep in his throat, an animal sound of arousal and desire. His hands moved over her body, firm and confident, knowing how and where she longed to be touched. An unexpected strength rose in her and she pushed him, hard. Ronin stumbled back, tripping over his own feet, landing flat on the dirt floor. Raising himself on his elbows he snarled dangerously, anger flashing in his eyes.
Sara stepped forward, kicking off her shoes, planting one bare foot firmly in the middle of his chest. The toenails were painted a vivid lapis blue, a colour she never used. One hand pushed her thick, golden-red curls away from her face while the other slid down her body toward what she knew Ronin hungered for. The pose reminded her of a statue Beth had brought back from India; Kali-Ma, goddess of Death and Liberation, standing on the recumbent form of her consort Shiva. A dusty black iron image redolent of forbidden female power and magic.
"Is this what lonely Ronin wants?" she purred, teasing herself with the tips of her fingers; a dark, sensual fire mounting in her belly "A taste of Lovely Sara's honey?"
The snarl faded into a low, guttural, moan and he let himself fall back. She hadn't tamed the beast but he was willing to play her game for now. Sara dropped to her knees astride him and pressed her wet fingers against his lips
"Taste!" she commanded. Ronin took them into his mouth, sucking thirstily, his tongue curling round them to catch every drop. All the while his gaze held hers, a brooding anger shot through with deep rooted pain.
"Please…" he gasped, tugging at the belt of his pants "Take the hurt away…"
Sara lowered herself onto him slowly, enjoying the way he groaned and clenched his teeth as he fought the urge to grab her hips and thrust.
"Why am I here…?" she demanded, knowing this moment of power couldn't last against the force of rage and lust she felt in this man. "What do you need from me?"
Ronin stared up at her, his breathing rough and shallow. For a second the eyes were Clint's, gentle and bewildered. The voice his as well, soft and scared
"I can't remember what they stole… Sara, help me find them…"
Then Clint was gone and Ronin's steel returned. His hands grasped her firmly and he rolled so she was on her back with him pressing deep into her until she cried out; her fingernails raking the skin of his back and shoulders while he grazed her neck with his sharp teeth.
"You had your game, Lovely Sara…" he growled, frightening and exciting her at the same time "Now we play by Ronin's rules…"
###
Clint woke with a start; heart racing, gasping for breath. It took him a couple of seconds to realise his cock was still twitching, and to feel the sticky warm puddle on his stomach.
Shit! Not had one of those dreams in years.
There was a lot too, he hadn't thought he'd be capable of that after earlier tonight. Maybe there was more life left in this broncin' buck than he imagined. Could be the sessions with Dr Forrest were helping, this would certainly give them something different to talk about tomorrow.
Beside him, Sara moved in her sleep and moaned softly. Sounded like she was having a good dream as well. Perhaps they should compare notes in the morning and swap ideas?
Humming a few bars of 'American Pie' he scooped some of the mess off his stomach with his thumb and popped it into his mouth while he went through to the bathroom to dry himself off
Mmmm…. Salty!
He never understood why it freaked some girls out that he liked his own taste. He chuckled, maybe he'd see how much it freaked Tony out the next time he insisted on a game of Truth or Dare
###
"The Wolfe's research notes are incomplete" Natasha informed Fury "and half of them appear to be in some kind of personal cipher. Someone cleared out a lot of their files just after their death."
Fury had his back to her, staring out of his office window across the Potomac. This wasn't a surprise to him; they'd hit a similar dead end after the initial investigation
"The daughters?" he asked
"Nothing to connect them with their parent's work" Natasha confirmed "Their known associates check out and there's no record of either of them being involved with any of their parent's former colleagues."
"What about their DNA results?" The Director was determined to check every box in this investigation, there was too much at stake.
"No indication of physical enhancement…" she pre-empted Fury's next question "…and we have no way of determining telepathic ability from DNA markers, if such a thing even exists."
"Have the Index tests been applied?" Fury was still staring out of the window, restricting his conversation to the directly interrogatory. Natasha recognized it as one of the techniques he used to prevent her reading his non-verbal tells.
"Not yet, no." Natasha told him; that wasn't a direct lie, Bruce had kept his testing discreet and secret but she'd recognized some of the methods and could guess what he was up to. "But I'm not convinced about them. I'm sure I would score pretty high based on my own abilities."
"You have a unique skill-set" the Director conceded. There is was again, the feeling that whatever had been done to her in the Red Room was more than just sterilisation. "Apply the tests, discreetly…"
"Of course," she said "we wouldn't want Agent Barton to get suspicious."
She made little attempt to hide the sarcasm in her voice. Natasha's loyalties to S.H.I.E.L.D. had been stretched thin the last few months, after what they did and made her part of. It was true what she'd said to Sara, she was very protective of Clint; and just now that was stronger than any connection she felt to the organisation they both notionally belonged to.
"And what about Agent Barton?" Fury finally turned to face her "Still having bad dreams?"
"Not so much since his recovery." she said "Perhaps it was just a glitch in his 'debriefing'..."
Or if he is, he's keeping it to himself
If Fury didn't know, or wasn't going to ask, about Clint seeing Dr Forrest; she wasn't about to venture that information, not yet anyway.
"…I think he's just glad to be back on active service."
"Yes…" Fury's eyes bored into hers, alert for any deceit or prevarication, but Natasha had never needed to turn her back to hide her tells. "On that note, we've identified that the enhanced individual who attacked Agent Barton received treatment at a clinic on the west coast; a clinic which appears to be a front for an active A.I.M. cell. We suspect the modified staphylococcus bug originated from the same source. Given the nature of the potential threat I've ordered Commander Hill to brief Captain Rogers later this afternoon. You may want to get back to New York and liase with the others; this is definitely a situation that merits special attention."
Advanced Idea Mechanics hadn't been a significant threat since the late 80's, after the failure of their attempt to seize the Tesseract and the collapse of their plans to create a force of enhanced 'superhuman' weapons. Some cells remained active though, and it was best to nip any such potential problem in the bud as swiftly as possible.
Fury thought it best not to mention, for now, that one of the organisations Samuel and Elizabeth Wolfe worked for, around the time of their eldest daughter's birth, had since been proven to be an A.I.M. shell company. That was information the Avengers didn't need to know just yet.
###
"That went reasonably well…" Tony conceded as they watched the S.H.I.E.L.D. STRIKE unit herd the last of the A.I.M. scientists and gunmen into the waiting transport "although, perhaps Natasha should check 'widdow Kwint' for any potentially infected boo-boo's. We wouldn't want a repeat of last time."
"Hey, fuck you, Stark!" retorted Clint with a grin, unstrapping his quiver "No need to get pissy just 'cause you're not getting your hands on any of the tech."
"A.I.M.'s all just back street junkyard stuff these days" Tony tried to sound casual, unwilling to admit that Clint was right on target as usual "Though I wouldn't mind a look at those…"
He nodded in the direction of what looked like parts for cybernetic limbs being loaded onto the S.H.I.E.L.D. transports along with other pieces of hardware. The laboratory complex in the abandoned warehouse was bigger than they had first imagined and a whole team of Sci-Ops specialists were on their way out to pick it over inch by inch.
"Worried someone might possibly be doing something better than you?" laughed Natasha
This had been the first mission the four of them had worked together since New York, and the first time working in conjunction with a S.H.I.E.L.D. STRIKE unit. Natasha guessed it was the real test for the 'Special Response Team' Fury had staked his career to create. If they'd failed to gel the second time around or if they were unable to work with other S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives then the whole future of the Avengers Initiative could be at risk, along with Fury's job.
Steve had the right command style for this, she admitted. He didn't make the mistake of trying to micro-manage; instead trusting his team to make the best use of their own skill-sets within a broad, overall, strategy. Apart from Steve they were all used to working independently and still had a long way to go to get used to each other's styles. She'd worked with Clint often enough and that was easy; you just had to remember the basic rule 'don't get in my fucking eye-line', but Stark's exuberant show-boating was going to take some getting used to.
He was good at keeping attention away from everyone else though.
Clint had been apprehensive about working with another S.H.I.E.L.D. team. No matter what the reason, compromised agents always had a tough time; S.H.I.E.L.D. never forgot and rarely forgave. After his role in the attack on the Helicarrier there were plenty who thought of him as a dangerous liability at best, and questioned Fury's judgement in retaining him on active service. Victoria Hand made it no secret that if she'd had her way he'd be locked up in the lowest level of the Fridge with the key thrown away. At least she was open and honest in her attitude, Natasha thought; hearing the constant whispers and barbed comments behind her friend's back had been the worst thing about these past months.
John Garrett's team had been a good call. The man was one of Fury's; hardcore, trustworthy and a bit of a maverick with a brusque, direct approach. His attitude one of 'Shit happens, now let's get on with the job at hand.' His second in command, Antoine Triplett, was the grandson of one of the original Howling Commando's; Gabe Jones. He and Steve bonded instantly. Gabe had died a couple of years ago, the last of them to go, so it was a bittersweet meeting for the Captain but she saw the way his eyes lit up as he heard about his old friend and comrade's children and grandchildren; and the long, happy life he'd enjoyed.
The flight from New York could have been a sullen, silent, nightmare; instead it felt almost jovial, pre-mission nerves discharging in jokes and anecdotes. Garrett had a good store of them and Steve even came out with a couple that proved he wasn't the blushing schoolgirl Tony made him out to be. Clint had been quiet and withdrawn, but that was always his way before missions; retreating into himself and finding his centre, saving the wise-ass remarks and quips for the journey back.
She'd caught Clint glancing over at the others a few times, though, noticing the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth and the way his posture became more relaxed and comfortable. He'd certainly been happier and more at ease in the weeks following his recovery. Concentrating on building his weight and strength back up had drawn his attention away from whatever was happening inside his head, and having Sara living at the Penthouse for most of that time certainly wasn't hurting. Telepath, Empath or not, there was something about her that calmed and settled Clint; making him seem more like the man she'd known before. For that alone she was willing to be friends with the girl
"Strap yourselves in, boys!" Natasha called back to them as she settled into the pilot's seat "Take off in 5."
She was looking forward to putting some more air-miles under her belt and these new Quinjets were a pleasure to handle. Natasha glanced back at the men trading jokes and insults as they buckled in and she smiled quietly. Maybe, just maybe, Fury had made the right call and things had a chance of working out.
"Right!" said Tony gleefully, rubbing his hands together as the jet's engines hummed into life "Truth or Dare?"