Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers, along with everything else associated with Marvel.
A/N: So I'm pretty sure I'm setting myself up for way more work than I can handle, but I'm going to at least attempt this year's NaNoWriMo! Anyone else up for it?
Previously:
Brooklyn was walking in when she'd just exited the front gates. He was dressed in all black, except for a bright red necktie that stood out like a target on his chest. His blond hair and pale complexion dulled to a whisper of white against the heavy black. When he saw Natasha he pulled her aside against the squeaky gate and kissed her a solid two minutes.
"You're nervous," she commented.
He smiled, nervously. "I'm not nervous, you're just making me flustered."
He kissed her again as if to reenforce his defense, letting his hand stay at the small of her back. There was an urgency in his contact that Natasha didn't encourage, and she pulled away first and told him to go upstairs without her, telling him she needed space when he asked why. He probably thought she was sulking at the prospect of him "leaving for business" tomorrow, but she had something else on mind.
She located his car a few blocks away and circled it, then took out her phone.
"Director Fury," she said. "If you're not sending a S.H.I.E.L.D car, I'm gonna slash his tires."
"Of course I'm sending you a car," Fury said. "Get his tires anyway. I'm gonna make this guy pay. Do you know how many times I've told him to stay out of S.H.I.E.L.D's business?"
"No, because you've elected to hide the fact that Juliet's got an uncle on the hunt for her until I found out myself." Natasha looked around to check for any unwanted gazes, then wriggled a switchblade from her back pocket and went for the sidewall of the right front wheel.
"I didn't think you'd actually make contact with him," Fury defended.
"Keep talking," she muttered, inching her blade out of the tire so that the air in the tire could escape as soundlessly as possible.
"Look, don't get attached to the Jansson girl—"
"I'm not attached."
"Ok, good. Because I need you to bring her in, too."
Natasha yanked her knife out of the second tire. Her abruptness caused an angry hiiisssss that sounded like a shaken up bottle of coke. "Director, you didn't notify me in—"
"Yo. Girl's about to go for a swim in Costa Rica, and I really, really can't spare a jet just to get eighty-five pounds of human over to the Academy."
Jab to the third tire. Alvaro would unravel like a ball of yarn. "And her guardian at the moment? He's treated her with more care than I'm sure S.H.I.E.L.D would. He's given her a good environment to grow up in. Now we're—you're—taking that away from her."
"We discussed this, Romanoff. Navarrete has no claim over the child. James would join Hydra if that shit still exists today just to go against S.H.I.E.L.D. That leaves the kid with no one but us—just like her mother wanted it."
"You could be making this up, for all I know." Natasha returned the switch blade to her pocket and walked back to the school building. Whatever happened next could only end one way:
Her cover of Natalie would disintegrate soon.
Not much had changed when she returned upstairs. The empty pizza boxes pile had risen and consequently, the filled ones had dropped. A parent had brought in her entire jazz band to sing a few numbers, and their trumpets and saxophones and drum set took up a corner of the cafeteria, by the severely out-of-tune piano that Natasha'd witnessed some younger kids unlidding and throwing crayons into. Distractedly, she took a piece of pepperoni-and-cheese and wolfed it down before reaching for another piece. Whoever S.H.I.E.L.D's sending along with her car wouldn't be buying her dinner, and she wasn't planning on working on an empty stomach.
Lizzy drifted by and handed Natasha a paper cup of fruit punch. "No company?" she asked.
Natasha took the cup. "Don't need it."
"Well, fine." Lizzy made an exaggerated toss of her arms in the air. "You're ditching me already?" She chuckled.
"No, of course not." Natasha returned the smile. She glanced to her left. Brooklyn was talking to Juliet, crouching by the girl's side with an urgent hand tapping on his knee. Alvaro was by the jazz band, trying out their saxophone and blaring an uncorrelated knot of notes through the room.
Then Brooklyn got up, Juliet following him. In a flash they'd made it past the door.
Natasha licked the grease off her fingers and strolled out after them.
The duo headed straight for Brooklyn's car. Immersed only about the danger in front in their escape—a stupid, amateur mistake, they both didn't notice Natasha gaining from behind. Juliet kneaded the dirt with her shoes noisily while Brooklyn fumbled for his car keys.
"Hello," Natasha crooned.
Brooklyn turned. She knocked him out quick. As he fell backwards he slammed into the side of the car and collapsed in a dark, murky pile.
"That wasn't as fun as I thought it'd be," Natasha muttered to herself. She turned to Juliet. "Do me a favor, don't scream."
Juliet did the opposite. Natasha shot forth, grabbed the girl by her arm and covered her mouth. Juliet bit the skin on her palm. "Quiet," Natasha ordered. "You don't know what you're getting into."
Thankfully, the car she was waiting for pulled up to the curb then. A woman in S.H.I.E.L.D field clothing stepped out. "Agent Romanoff." Brief nod. "This is him?" Pointing at Brooklyn. After a confirmation from Natasha, the agent approached and, with surprising strength for her petite, 5-feet body, hurled Brooklyn's six-feet-three over her shoulder.
Natasha took her hand from Juliet's mouth and crouched down so they could see each other at eye level. "Lettie, I need you to come with me. I'll explain the rest later, but right now, we need to go."
Juliet kept blinking. Rapidly. Her lips parted, then closed, then parted again. "You're from S.H.I.E.L.D, aren't you?" she asked.
Natasha held their eye contact.
"Yes."
Juliet nodded, looking at her feet. "Are you going to lock me up?"
"No." Natasha brushed her hand over Juliet's blonde hair and smoothed down her flyaways. "No one will lock you up. I'll make sure of that."
"Are you someone important?"
Natasha rose and took Juliet's hand. "We need to go."
"But what about Alv—"
"I'll take care of that."
The S.H.I.E.L.D agent Fury sent was holding the car door open for them. Natasha led Juliet to the shotgun seat, and took her own spot at the seat behind her, where a sturdy net of steel separated her from the tied-up, still-unconscious Brooklyn at the back of the car.
"Nancy Lee, ma'am," the S.H.I.E.L.D agent said. "Sorry for not introducing sooner."
"That was impressive work, Agent Lee," Natasha said. "Relocating and tying down a man twice your size in under a minute. You've been a field agent, how long?"
Lee laughed. "I'm no field agent, Agent Romanoff. I'm graduating from the Academy next year."
Lee pulled into the street and began hacking out a path through the darkness. In minutes she drove into the freeway, and gained speed. The road beneath them rolled on forever like a a murky treadmill, and the bright, orange streetlights and house lights shining through windows whizzed by like fire sparks. Natasha glanced at the time display at the front of the car. 8:25 P.M, it read.
"We're gonna sleep in the car overnight?" Natasha said.
"Sorry, but it looks like it," Lee said. "It's almost six hours to Agoura Hills."
Six hours. That's plenty of time. Natasha leaned forward in her seat. "Juliet?" She patted the girl gently on her shoulder. "Listen to me, ok? We're going to S—"
"I'm not listening to you." Juliet's voice was quiet and shaky.
Natasha sat back and dragged her teeth over her bottom lip. No, it didn't hurt, she told herself. It didn't hurt her one bit what this Jansson girl said. She'd put Juliet out of her mind soon enough like she did with every other assignment; not erasing the memories, just cramming them in, stacking them ceiling-high with the rest, ones she'd never bothered to blow the dust off and revisit.
"We're going to S.H.I.E.L.D Academy," she continued her explanation anyway. "According to the papers your mother signed, there was to be a direct hand-over from your temporary caretaker at the time to S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm not here to steal you away, Juliet. I'm only doing what your mother wanted."
No response. Reflecting off the dirty, streaked windshield was Lee's stoic expression, betrayed by a pinch of her lips. Juliet's expression Natasha couldn't see; she had her face pressed to the window, her blonde hair twitching as she tugged at the strands.
Natasha sighed softly and looked out the window, too.
Slowly, the landscape changed from urban to industrial, to farmland and endless mounds of inked, shallow hills. The minutes ticked by.
Lizzy texted. Where was Juliet? Where did you go, Natalie? Natasha ignored the messages and closed her eyes.
"Hayward," Lee announced after a while.
"Dublin."
"Livermore."
Juliet's quiet, sharp sniffles and Lee's distribution of tissues from a box were the only sounds inside the car between the calling out of passed by towns. The life had gone out of the sky, its color left only in a few measly scraps of dark gray clouds. There was a low groan from behind Natasha. Then a shift of air.
"What the hell is going on?" Brooklyn asked.
Natasha kept her head where she rested it against the car window. "You're under custody."
"By who?"
"Me."
"What are you playing?" he said, louder.
"Brooklyn Jordan James, I am not playing with you." Natasha turned around and stared at him. The spot where she'd punched him had darkened, and the eye on that side not opening properly. "You're under S.H.I.E.L.D's custody for attempted kidnapping."
"What a load of bullshit." He laughed. "You don't know anything."
"That's not for you to say."
"Tell me then, Miss S.H.I.E.L.D Agent, how much do you know?"
"Your sister, Matisse, had years ago specifically instructed that in case she died, her child be turned over to S.H.I.E.L.D for the rest of her developmental years up until the age of eighteen. S.H.I.E.L.D's rights over Juliet activated the moment her mother died at the research compound in the Adirondacks. Your blood relation to her has no influence nor freebies. You are kidnapping."
Brooklyn looked unfazed by the information she just presented. "Explain why you haven't taken care of the guy she's living with now, then," he said.
"Navarrete offered her a stable living condition while S.H.I.E.L.D dealt with the aftermath in Manhattan."
"I could have offered that for her!"
"According to records, you haven't seen her since she's three years old. Navarrete's kept close contact with her mother and was more of a brother than you ever were."
"Interstate 5," Lee announced, then glanced back to Natasha and Brooklyn.
"Can you pull over at the nearest exit, Nancy?" Natasha said. "I'll drive the rest of the way."
"But Agent Romanoff—"
"That's an order."
"Yes, ma'am."
Brooklyn tried to talk to Juliet, but Natasha threatened him with a gun that Lee passed to her. At an exit twenty minutes later, they pulled into a gas station, and while the gas meter ticked, Lee switched seats with Natasha. There was no way Natasha would fall asleep tonight, with these people, without a loaded syringe on her person. She hid her bloodshot, stinging eyes from the others and hoisted herself onto the driver's seat. Hopefully driving would keep her awake...
"All of you get some sleep," she ordered the people sitting behind her.
Around 11 P.M, her texts began gathering speed, plaguing the phone in Natasha's lap. Sandwiching between Lizzy and Alvaro's ever so persistent messages, Clint's began showing up. He asked if she was out to find Juliet, where she was, when she's coming back. Natasha kept quiet to those questions like the rest.
At 2:30 A.M she pulled off the highway, and after another thirty minutes of winding through the deserted local streets of Agoura Hills, going opposite of where the population's majority lived, she came across the dark, geometric outlines of buildings, dotted with interior lights. Lee began stirring in her seat. "We're here," she said, her voice thick with sleep.
The security booth a few yards away lit up. A woman in guards uniform and with a toothpick twitching between her lips peeked out from the booth's window. She looked at the approaching car, shrugged, and pointed to the ID scanner attached to the wall of the booth. Natasha took out her ID and flashed it in front of the scanner.
ACCESS DENIED. ROMANOFF, NATASHA, the screen informed her.
The guardswoman opened her mouth, probably to tell Natasha to turn back because she wasn't authorized, when the speakers sounded again:
SYSTEM OVERRIDE. FURY, NICHOLAS J.
The woman blinked, then immediately pressed a button on her table of controls and switches. The striped bar blocking the car's path went up in obedience, and Natasha drove through.
"What is this, jail?" Brooklyn said. "Looks nice."
"Some jails look nicer," Natasha said.
"This is S.H.I.E.L.D Academy, where we train our newest and youngest," Lee explained.
"There's no way in hell I'm turning into one of you." Brooklyn snorted.
"Maybe you will. I'm not sure," Lee said. "Our form of a... 'jail,' is awfully packed right now, so we just need to dump you at the closest base possible."
"The Fridge is full?" Natasha asked.
"Well, from what I've heard, yes. The authorities aren't publicly discussing the issue at all."
"What did I expect," she muttered, crinkled her nose and drove the car into the garage coming up.
Another ID scanner at the entrance to the garage; another invalid response message appeared that Fury's overriding immediately covered. Natasha could feel the looks piercing her back, coming from the people in the passenger seats.
A few black-clad guards took Brooklyn away, and a few more were heading for Juliet. "Wait," Natasha said. "I'll take the girl up, just tell me where."
"I can go by myself," Juliet mumbled.
"You're sure?"
"Duh." She balled her hands into fists and let the guards surround her.
The Academy resembled a university campus, its dim roads populated by what almost looked like normal citizens, illuminated by orbs of bluish light from posts on the sidewalks. At these night hours only a few were still out in the open, and what there were clustered in laughing groups. A few greeted Lee and hugged her. No one recognized that the Black Widow was right beside her, though. The idea that the Widow would ever be among them, let alone tailing their friend in a green hoodie and old, faded jeans, bested even their imaginations.
Fury was waiting on a wooden green bench outside the Science and Technology building, twiddling with a gray cube from hand to hand. "You're late," he said.
"Traffic."
"Shit, it's past midnight. You expect me to believe that?"
"You expect me to believe what you said, then?" Natasha loomed over him. "I have no access to any part of the Academy. Can't even go to the bathroom without your stupid system override message blasting all over the place."
"What? What did I say? I didn't say nothin' bout the Academy and you."
"My ID's deactivated, Director."
"Council's decision." Fury continued twisting the silver cube in his hand. It looked like a crooked, randomly shaped Rubik's cube.
Natasha swallowed the objection threatening to come out, and crossed her arms. "So now what? My job's done? Back to San Francisco?"
"I'd like you to check on James tomorrow, after he gets some rest and the shock overwhelms him real good. Stay here for the night, I'll get a room for you."
"I'll take the car." Natasha brushed off invisible dust from her sleeve.
"Well, whatever works." Fury continued playing with his cube, spinning its segments this way and that. There was a hint of dismissal in his voice, reluctant but expectant, that Natasha opted to ignore.
"What are you doing with Jansson's daughter?" She blurted out.
Fury looked up at her, sighed, and stowed away the cube in his pocket. "She'll be safe."
"Will she be happy here?"
"Well, that's up to her."
"Will she be happy here?"
"S.H.I.E.L.D will do its best, Romanoff. Matisse Jansson was a well-respected P.E.G.A.S.U.S researcher and a famed graduate from the Academy. Her child will not be mistreated."
"She needs proper schooling and interaction with kids her age. Normal civilians."
"I'll see to it."
If not for the sudden pain at her temples, Natasha would have stayed and questioned Fury until she was satisfied. She muttered "whatever" under her breath and turned to head back to the garage.
"Natasha."
She looked back. Fury was beckoning her to sit beside him. In the harsh lamp light above him, his bald head shone like polished silver, and his eye shone brighter. "Talk with me."
Oh, she already knew what he'd say. Tempering her impatient breathing, she sat gingerly next to him and waited for his initiation.
"What's going on?" Fury planted his elbows on his thighs and tilted his head to look at Natasha. The lines on his face had softened; the frown on his face lessened to a... lesser frown.
"I feel fine." She got straight into topic while he was still testing her tides.
"I'm noting your readings everyday," he said. "And a few of your enzyme levels have been fluctuating."
"Nick, this conversation's getting rusty, don't you think?"
"And I hate bringing it up every time because you never tell me the truth!"
"The truth is I am functioning perfectly well."
"Yea, you keeping saying that—"
The automatic door behind their bench opened, cutting Fury off. Two people stepped out together, chattering on, so intent on their exchange they didn't catch their director sitting there until he snapped his fingers at them. "Hey. Yo. Fitz, is it?"
The young man of the duo turned around, his mouth open. "Oh! Director!" He spoke with a Scottish accent, and flustered, he quickly fixed the collar of his wrinkled shirt, the girl with him helping out. "That's me."
"Your puzzle thing is pretty cool." Fury pulled out the silver faux-Rubik's Cube from his trench coat.
Fitz's eyes widened. "My touch-sensitive electr—"
The girl nudged him lightly. Fitz swallowed his sentence and said, "Thank you, Director."
"You were looking for this?" Fury asked.
"Yeah, I thought I misplaced it in my dorm or something..."
"You didn't. I went in and took it. Call it inspection."
"Oh..."
Fury tossed the cube to Fitz, who quickly pocketed it.
"Why you two up so late in the buildings?" Fury asked.
"Fitz wanted—"
"Simmons wanted to wait for the scans on the new cell cultures to develop before we head back." Fitz crammed in.
"No, I was waiting for you to polish off the new alloy!"
Fury made sounds like he was chasing off chickens and sent the duo on their way. When they were out of earshot, he returned his attention to Natasha.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"Those two?"
"Fitzsimmons—no spaces in between. The most gifted out of the entire Science and Technology Department, mind you."
"Very lively. I don't see those a lot."
"Simmons is phenomenal in biochemistry." Fury nodded to himself. "Phenomenal."
Natasha caught the intonation in his words and brushed it off. He was trying to intimidate her. No one, not even Fury, would risk utilizing an agent in training like that girl for his own private matters.
"A few proper tests will be good for you," he said. "Simmons might be young, but she's terribly, terribly compatible for this."
"You promised to keep this between us," Natasha argued.
"Natasha, I'm concerned about you." Fury leaned closer until she could see his nostrils flaring. "Naturally I'd opt for Sheerin to look at you, but we both know why that's out of the question. Maybe not Simmons, maybe someone else. You choose. But I insist that you run through some form of orthodox testing before you continue using Barton's drugs in such an unorthodox manner."
Natasha took a deep breath to rein her impatience. "I'll do something about that," she said. "But in my own time."
Since we are approaching Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D territory, I thought it'd be appropriate to drop some cameos! Maybe I'm hinting at more in the future... maybe not...