Disclaimer in chapter 1

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Natasha briskly walked into the conference room, head high and shoulders squared.

"Nice of you to join us, Miss Romanoff," commented the head councilmen.

"Sorry, sir, I had a hard time finding my way back." She took her seat behind the table, "Shall we proceed?"

Clearing his throat, the head Councilmen opened up the folder in front of him, "Your status as a deniable asset means that we can't punish you since you technically don't work for us."

"We found that the two thumb drives you brought in are a gold mine of intelligence we can use against Hydra and known associates." Offered the councilwoman, "However, we need someone with knowledge of their inner workings to help analyze it."

"You mean SHIELD doesn't have any informants or moles inside of Hydra?" Asked Natasha in disbelief. Surely the world's most global and advanced intelligence agency had someone spying on Hydra.

She took their silence as a no.

"We've never been able to send in any agents to gather decent intel. I mean we have, but they've never returned alive." The councilmen clarified.

"Which is why you guys are gonna reach within the kindness of your hearts and not send assassins after me when I leave here today, right?" Again her sarcasm was met with silence.

"Agent Romanoff—"

"Oh I'm Agent Romanoff now? Great." She could feel Fury's warning gaze boring holes into the back of her head.

"We require your assistance in breaking down the data. If this could lead to the destruction of a nefarious organization that predates SHIELD, your knowledge would be instrumental to the process." It was Yen who spoke that time. Natasha simply clenched her jaw and shook her head in disbelief.

"You will work closely with our top Strike Team and intelligence officers to coordinate an attack. Upon completion of your work, SHIELD will offer pardon and protection."

Natasha let out a dry and empty laugh, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair, "Let's face it, Agent, you are vulnerable to your enemies in your condition, and from what we know, there are a lot of people that want you dead." Said the councilwoman.

"This is your only chance to repent, Miss Romanoff." Said the head councilmen, "You can take it and walk out of here alive, or you can watch over your shoulder until someone catches you off guard." He didn't sugar coat it. He told her the facts and what consequences her decision would have. The councilmen appealed to her traditional Russian upbringing that taught her that a person was forgiven through their actions, not their words.

"I'd like to see what's behind door number three." Her humor went unappreciated.

"These are your options, Romanoff." they silently waited for what they thought would be a quick decision on her part, but then again, no one really knew Natasha Romanoff to be predictable.

In all honesty, Natasha's first impulse was to agree; however, the tiny voice in the back of her head told her otherwise. She had to ask herself if she was willing to keep going, 'I mean how bad can dying be, really?' she asked herself. Her skills outside of espionage could be counted on one hand. Her previous work had amounted into a more than adequate money supply that would allow her to live comfortably for the rest of her life, but she was the type of person who couldn't sit still. Then there was the question of her invalidity. Matt being the only exception, a handicap in her line of work made for an extra short lifespan. She decided she wasn't going to give SHIELD the satisfaction of taking her out or leading her enemies straight to her. Giving in, Natasha spoke, "Who would I be working with?" Her words were sharp and controlled.

"Agents Barton and Morse, along with top secret intelligence team whose names you will find out upon signing your agreement." Said the head councilmen.

She heard a faint flicker telling her a file had popped up on the screen of the table, "You know I can't read anymore, right?" It was strange but Natasha was surprised when the words left her mouth, realizing she'd never read anything ever again, at least not like she used to. A pang of hurt flashed through her chest before she quickly pushed any further thoughts away.

"It's an update on your security clearance to level 9." Said Yen.

"You expect me to trust that?"

"They're telling the truth," said Fury as he walked up behind her and leaned over her shoulder, "for once." He uttered just loud enough for her to hear. She and Fury always had a strange relationship. Rocky at first, they collided; he had endlessly referred to her as "Barton's stray" for the first few years; but they grew to understand each other, the hard decisions they made, and the lies they often had to tell. He was the first person she came to trust, right in front of Coulson and Barton.

Natasha heard him tap away on the table and straighten himself behind her, giving her space, "You can scan you hand print right in front of you." He said.

No one was holding a gun to her head or a knife to her throat, but their quiet stares of anticipation were sharp enough to feel like it. Sighing in acceptance, Natasha placed her hand flat on the table as it scanned her print. A small sound confirmed it. She couldn't help but feel like she was signing her life away, "Is that all?"

"You'll get two days to get your affairs in order and we'll begin work on Wednesday." Instructed Fury.

She gave a curt nod and proceeded to stand.

"The meeting is now over. I expect results, Agent Romanoff." Head councilmen Rockwell said before the screens went black and she was left alone with Fury.

He tapped some controls on the table screen as he shut off the security and audio feeds in the room, "Natasha, I mean it." His voice was serious, "Get your affairs in order with Agent Barton. If it means anything, had Hill, Coulson, and I not intervened, he might've still been looking for your sorry ass."

"He's married." She stated.

Fury sighed, "Like I said, get your affairs in order." Walking out of the conference room, he left Natasha to think things over.

Gus whined from beside her. She looked down at him and felt for her glasses on the table, "Seriously? Gus, your bladder is way too small." The pair walked out of the conference wing and out if SHIELD.

She didn't come across Coulson, Bobbi, or Clint, much to her surprise and relief.

In truth, Fury was right. Working with them meant being professionals. She needed to talk to Clint.

"God, I hate confrontation." She uttered as she and Gus walked home.


Immediately after leaving the conference room, Fury went to see Coulson and the others in observation. The three agents were talking amongst themselves when he walked in, "—I'm just saying, Clint." Argued Bobbi. It seemed that's all they'd been doing lately.

"I know that, but could you quit being so paranoid? She's not a bad person, jeez Bobbi." Clint's voice was laced with irritation.

Fury glanced at Coulson, who was leaned back on one of the swivel chairs with an impassive look on his face. He shrugged at Fury's confused expression.

"Why hello to you too, Agents." He interrupted. The pair looked at him in surprise, apparently too caught up in their argument to notice when he walked in.

Bobbi composed herself and nodded in acknowledgment, "Sir," she turned to glare at Clint, "Excuse me." She dismissed herself and left the men alone.

Coulson took Fury's glance his cue to go too, "Well," he straightened his coat jacket, clearing his throat slightly, and placed a firm hand on Clint's shoulder, "gentlemen." Coulson gave them both a brief smile and exited the room.

Fury turned and looked at Clint before taking Coulson's vacated seat, letting out a tired sigh "You know, there's only one chair in that damn conference room, and that was one hell of a long debriefing."

"That was five years in a nutshell." Clint remarked.

"You think she's holding back?"

"This is Natasha we're talking about. It's like you said, old habits die hard." Clint said, reminding Fury of their meeting only a three weeks prior.

"You know, Barton, I'd be lying if I said she's the first person I've known to die and come back from the dead," he rubbed his chin, "And I've found, that talking is usually the way to go. It sounds cheesy but letting it out over lunch is better than arguing during a mission and getting distracted."

Clint's eyes flickered to Fury, recognition of his last statement resonating in his mind. That's exactly what happened in Kiev. He'd been arguing with Natasha over something stupid when he was distracted. Had he not been such an ass about his date with Bobbi, they all probably wouldn't be here right now. At this is, Clint couldn't help but wonder if Fury was referring to Natasha's disappearance or the relationship the councilwoman had implied during the debriefing. Either way, he eyed Fury, "What's that supposed to mean?" Clint demanded.

"It means that I have eyes everywhere, Agent," Fury leaned forward as his tone gained a hint of warning, "eyes that I have access to 24/7, and if you think you can get away with doing anything while at HQ, you obviously haven't been paying attention for the last twelve years."

Clint clenched his jaw, "I'm not a kid anymore, Fury. I can take care of my issues on my own."

"Well you've had a month to do so and after that performance, it doesn't seem like you're any closer to making things better." Fury stood up stepped in front of Clint, "In fact, I think you've made things a little more uncomfortable."

"This sounds like a lecture you'd normally instruct Coulson to give me."

"Well then you should take it more seriously if it's coming from me." Clint uncrossed his arms and stood tall, challenging his superior, "I don't want a repeat of Kiev. I want you all focused and attentive. How you fix the problem is none of my business, Barton, but you need to get your head out of your ass and face what's right in front of you." The two men glared at each other briefly before Fury turned to walk out of the room, "I expect you ready on Wednesday." He called over his shoulder before leaving Clint alone in the observation room. He stared intently at the static from the video feed before he too left the room, slamming the door behind him.


After narrowly avoiding being hit by a careless driver thanks to Gus's intelligent disobedience, Natasha decided that trying to navigate the busy streets of central Washington DC during rush hour was not a good idea. Immediately after, she phoned a cab as to avoid any real accidents.

She'd needed the walk to help her sort out the flurry of thoughts traveling through her headspace at unimaginable speeds. There was the dreaded issue of her now even more complicated relationship with Clint, if she could call it that, and how she was going to fix it, then there was how long it would take her to complete her assignment with SHIELD, along with the question of what would happen to her after Hydra was taken down, if they ever got to that point.

Not to mention her struggle to adapt. Gus was helpful, friendly, and the only one whose assistance she didn't mind, but she hated depending on anyone to help her with things. She hated having to ask for items at the grocery store when she couldn't focus enough to feel and guess food labels. She hated having to give Gus instructions on her every move. She hated only listening to the TV. She hated everything, period.

Which is why she also hated having to knock on her neighbor's door to ask him a for assistance.

She knew the moment the door opened, it wasn't Alex who answered. The man in front of her smelled like drywall and saw dust under a light layer of men's cologned shampoo, "Hi," she said slightly embarrassed, clearly expecting a smaller and shorter person, "I'm Natasha, I, uh, live right down the hall."

"Oh, right. Yeah, Alex, he, uh, told me about you. Sorry I haven't introduced myself. I've been caught up working. I'm Sam, by the way." He offered. In that moment, Natasha really hated her blindness, because his voice sounded unbearably attractive. She hadn't given it too much thought, but her libido was certainly coming back at her full force after a five year hiatus because she was pretty sure she was acting like a teenage girl taking to the hot professor.

"Right, Sam," she gave him girlish smile, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I need a favor." She pulled out a small object from her pocket and held it out, "The guy at the tech store didn't wire this correctly and it's not working. I just need to know which colors are connected where and I'll do the rest."

She heard him shift his weight on his feet and take the object from her hand. His fingers brushed up against her palm and sent goosebumps up her arm, 'Get a grip for Christ's sake, Natasha!' she mentally chided herself, "A frequency jammer?" he asked, slightly amused, "It's not gonna get in the way of my cell signal, is it?" She heard him fiddle with its components, examining the details.

"It'll only jam one frequency, I assure you." Natasha replied, smiling. Knowing SHIELD, they probably already bugged her apartment. They still doubted her intentions, most likely suspecting her a double agent thanks to Bobbi Morse's paranoia, "So, the colors?" She reminded.

The sound of wires re clicking into place filled her ears, "All done." He reached down and placed the jammer in her hand, bringing it up between them, "It was just three misplaced wires. The green where the blue went and another was in the wrong spot." She tilted her head at him, implying an explanation, "I do electrical work for construction companies." Sam leaned on the doorframe.

'That explains the sexy construction worker vibe.' she thought. "Oh, well thanks." A smile tugged at her lips. They both just stood there in the hall, neither making a move to leave. She wondered how he was looking at her.

"So is there a Mr. Natasha?" He asked.

She laughed and looked shyly at her feet, "No, there isn't." She smiled up at him once more, "Thankfully." She added.

"Well in that case, if you haven't eaten, would you like to come in for some lunch?" Natasha weighed her options briefly. She knew she had to deal with Barton and get her shit together, but she also knew she hadn't eaten since 6 AM. Reality could wait just a little bit longer.

"Sure."

She heard him move closer and place her hand on his elbow, "Well then, I welcome you to the Castle Joseph." Chuckling, she let him guide her in.


Barton/Morse residence, Arlington, VA

They were arguing, again, 'It's barely past lunch.' Clint thought, as a frustrated Bobbi Morse pulled out a chair and sat across from him at the dinner table, "You kissed her?" She asked incredulously. She crossed an arm in front of her chest, leaned on the table, and ran a hand over her hair.

Clint hung his head, more out of embarrassment than shame, and looked at his hands resting in between his legs. He, Clint Barton, man who preached fidelity and professionalism, had kissed a woman that wasn't his wife. He looked up and noticed her inner turmoil. Her eyes darted back and forth before focusing on the salt shaker, "Bobbi—"

"Do you love her?" She interrupted. Her tone was strong but her emotions still leaked through; the question fell from her mouth before she could stop it, and she now found herself both demanding and slightly afraid of what his answer might be.

Clint looked into Bobbi's warm brown eyes. It was a question he'd avoided asking himself for the past month. Did he? Did he still love the paradox wrapped in an enigma that was Natasha Romanoff?

"Love is for children, Barton."

Those were the words she'd said to him many years ago, tears glistening in her eyes, as he lay dying in her arms. He never believed in them.

"I don't know." He answered truthfully. An expression registered in Bobbi's features that he couldn't quite place.

She looked absentmindedly at her hands, "I should've seen this coming." she shook her head, "Somewhere in my head, I thought that if I loved you enough we'd be okay, but I knew deep down that wouldn't be enough. I knew it when you proposed, when we got married, and I know it now." biting her lip, she let out an empty chuckle, "I was a fool to marry you, a child wrapped up in some fantasy."

"No you're not, Bobbi." There was no barrier anymore, no part of what they'd been hiding to lie about, "I—we both needed someone. You mother got sick, I was told my partner was dead. We both needed someone to make things better. I was so angry, I needed something kind and wonderful to hold on to to make things easier," he reached over and was surprised when she let him take her hand in his, "and you did." His words were sincere and she knew he meant them.

"Did you ever love me, Clint?" her mouth suddenly felt dry.

This was a question he knew the answer to, "Yes, I did, Bobbi." Their wedding photo was evidence. The smiles plastered on their faces were genuine, mad with happiness and joy. It truly was one of the happiest days of his life, the day he gave himself to someone who was willing to do the same.

"But you don't now." it was more of a statement than a question.

He bit his lip and looked down at her hands, shaking his head ever so slightly. He wasn't going to lie to her anymore.

"Okay," she said looking around the kitchen, "I'm gonna give Sharon a call, stay at her place tonight."

"Bobbi, you don't have to do that." Clint held her hand a little tighter.

"Yeah, I do. Besides, if you leave, where are you gonna stay? God knows Coulson will kick you out before breakfast." She got up and headed into their bedroom to grab her things. Clint smiled behind her; her humor reassured him. When she emerged, Clint was still sitting by the table, "I'll see you Wednesday." He nodded.

With that, Bobbi exited their apartment, the door clicked shut behind her.


Samuel L Jackson voice: About damn time! lol

Next chapter has some serious Clint Barton inner thoughts. Rating may go up soon so keep an eye out.

As always, I don't mind a good review here and there that lets me know what you think... :)