A/N: 2013 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful and talented ladygris.

Cast:

Clint Barton/Clint Lockhart

Natasha Romanoff/Natasha Lockhart

Ainsley McKenna/Annabelle Rose Barton-Romanoff

Director Nick Fury

Avengers

Between Past and Present

Chapter 14

Just taking a drink, Clint spewed water right in her face. "Clint! That's disgusting!"

He tossed her something to dry off with then covered his mouth with the back of his hand while continuing to cough. Tipping the waterskin up, he let a small amount of water trickle into his mouth, swallowing slowly to clear his airway. He recapped the waterskin, setting it carefully aside.

Natasha watched him with one eyebrow raised in question, awaiting his answer. Could their time in the past have driven her mad? Hell, if they could travel back in time three hundred and fifty years, then anything's possible. Strange, but she didn't look crazy or demented. And if she was mad, he could always have her committed when they got home.

"Clint?"

His head snapped to the side. "Hmm?"

Natasha brought her knees up and linked her hands around them. "This isn't the most romantic setting for a proposal, so you have my solemn promise that, when we get home, I'll do it right. A nice meal at a romantic restaurant, flowers, and a box of those awful chocolates you love so much."

She got up to pace, waving her hands to emphasize her words and sounding very much not like herself. His amusement grew the longer she talked so he just let her go. "Oh, and a ring. Traditionally, the woman is given an engagement ring, but we're not exactly a traditional couple so I'll get you a ring. Unless you want to help pick it out. We'll need a new place to live too because you don't like my apartment and I don't like yours. Or we could get a house. Then, once we settle on a date, we can hire a wedding planner. All those little details will drive me…"

To stop her babbling and pacing, Clint took her hand, pulling around to face him. "Nat."

"….nuts." Looking up at him with wide eyes as if she were in shock, Natasha gaped at him a moment. "What?"

His hands came to rest on her shoulders, sliding down to lightly squeeze her upper arms. "You haven't said it yet."

"It?"

The look Clint gave her was one of mild rebuke, which she returned with a sheepish grin and shrug. He took a step back, his feet shoulder width apart and making a "bring it on" motion. "You won't get my answer until you say it out loud while we have our clothes on."

Her next act startled him almost as much as her out-of-the-blue proposal. Natasha moved toward him, placing her hands on his chest, sliding them up and around his neck. As soon as he felt her touch, his attitude softened, his shoulders and back became less stiff. He wanted to take her in his arms, but held out for what he wanted.

"Clint, I…" an adoring smile turned up the corners of her lips, "…I love you."

Cocking an eyebrow at him again, she waited. He didn't have the heart to draw it out. "I love you too, Natasha. And the answer is yes, I'll marry you." From the look on her face, it was a little bit of shock and a generous dose of delight. "You do know this means we'll have to apologize to celebritystalker1989? After destroying his career, we owe him an exclusive."

Her left hand clasped his right, weaving their fingers together. "Small price to pay. You know who we have to tell first, right?"

Clint grinned and nodded. Together, they said, "Coulson."

He leaned down to kiss her, surprised when she backed away dragging him into the tent where they spent the next several hours celebrating.

~~O~~

Snuggled within the warmth and safety of Clint's arms and cuddled against his naked body, Natasha pictured the faces of their friends when told of their engagement. Coulson wouldn't be surprised, of course. Fury, Hill, the rest? Up in the air as far as reactions go. Selvig wouldn't care at all. And it wasn't like he was a friend in the usual sense.

Dismissing everything else from her mind, Natasha rolled over to wrap her arm around Clint, their noses almost touching. She was about to go back to sleep, her eyes snapping open when a beeping sound intruded on their quiet time. The reason for the alarm lit up inside her head like a Jumbo- tron.

"Clint! Wake up!" Shaking him with one hand while the other dug around for the DNA analyzer. The device had an alarm feature as well as a way to make notes and scan certain frequencies. All SHIELD-tech. "Clint!"

"Wha-what's goin' on?" He sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "I had the best dream, Nat. You and I were…" He looked around, seeing that they were both as naked as the day they were born and it was the middle of the day. A grin spread across his face as he reached for her. "It wasn't a dream."

Slapping his hands away, she gathered up her clothes and crawled out of the tent. "No, it wasn't. Now get up! The portal will be opening in thirty minutes. Do you really want to show up back at the compound in your birthday suit?"

Grabbing his clothes, he seemed to be seriously considering doing just that then changed his mind. "Wouldn't wanna scare the geeks. Besides, all of this…" he indicated himself still in all his glory, turning in a circle "…now belongs solely to you."

"Yeah. That's really great. Today is one of the best days of my life," Natasha deadpanned. "Blah, blah, blah. Just remember, the portal only stays open for six minutes."

"Oh, right." Clint was dressed within seconds. "I'll strike the tent while you get the fire."

Nodding, Natasha shoved first her left foot then her right into her boots, and strapped on each of the knives that she'd brought with her as she went to the fire pit. After kicking dirt into it, she poked around with a stick to make sure no sparks had survived that could start a fire. "Ready. Want some help?"

"Got it." Reaching inside, Clint struck the support poles, dragging them out and adding them to the others. Natasha gathered the ropes, wound them up and tied the ends off while Clint folded the tent. Together, they carried everything to the wagon and placed it all in the back. The horses were grazing nearby, and it wouldn't take long to get them hooked up so they could return the cart to Tavish and Griselda.

Thinking about the older couple, Natasha wished that there had been more she could've done to thank them for their hospitality and their assistance. Without it, they might never have found Annabelle. Ainsley. She had to think of her as Ainsley. Though she was still their child, she was also Edeen and Gavin's. And with them is where she would stay, with the family that had been there for her the last ten years.

She and Clint would definitely have a long talk with Selvig about that. He was supposed to get them here seven years ago. Finding out that they'd arrived later than they thought was the sort of surprise that neither of them liked. And when Hawkeye and the Black Widow were unhappy, all hell could break loose. Letting their child go had been one of the hardest things Natasha had ever done. But Clint was right. The McKennas were her family now.

Clint broke into her thoughts by putting his arms around her waist. "Any minute now. You ready?"

"Yes." With her hands on top of his where they rested on her stomach, she took a deep breath, saying with more conviction, "Yes. Annabelle is happy, healthy and very much loved. And knowing that makes being without her a little easier."

She could feel one side of Clint's mouth turn upward where his cheek touched her temple. "Don't forget you have me to commiserate with."

"You are the only thing keeping me from going completely crazy, Clint." Leaning into him, she rubbed the backs of his hands. "You came into my life at a time when I was lost. And I've never thanked you for saving me."

"You're welcome. You know, that's quite a breakthrough for someone who calls herself the Black Widow."

She sighed heavily. "The name was apropos. I didn't care about anything or anyone but myself."

"And look at you now. Look at us." Again, they were interrupted by beeping. "Here it comes."

They picked up their bags, and Clint snatched the bow and crossbow from the ground at his feet, and awaited the signal that would lead them to the portal when it opened. Natasha gripped Clint's hand tightly, resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder in the direction of the McKenna farm.

~~O~~

Hours later, they were still waiting. The receivers in their ears didn't transmit so they couldn't even call. Clint knew that this was the exact place at which he and Natasha had arrived the same way he knew that their "window" had come and gone.

"Clint…"

"Yes, we had the right time and place." Immediately sorry that he snapped, Clint rubbed the back of his head. They were sitting side by side on the one feature of the area that hadn't changed in ten years: the rock. "Sorry."

She stood up seeming to be unsure of what to do next. "I don't see how we could've missed it. There has to be a problem on Selvig's end."

"We didn't. You know it and I know it." He stood up as well. "Hungry?"

Shaking her head, Natasha went to the wagon, rummaged in the back, coming out with a pair of pants and a shirt. "If we're going to be hanging around a while, I'm getting comfortable."

As she headed into the woods, Clint called out, "You're not gonna go all shy about changing in front of me now that we're engaged, are you?"

The snort she sent his way was filled with humor and scorn. "No. But I have to pee and that I'm not doing it in front of anyone."

When Natasha had vanished into the forest, Clint let out the disappointment, frustration and rage he was feeling by saying a few choice words out loud. Natasha wouldn't have been offended, but he hadn't wanted to do it in front of her. One of them had to be strong about this and as far as he was concerned, it was always going to be his turn. "****!"

And just because he could, Clint said a lot more in several different languages. Natasha was probably doing the same where he couldn't hear it. It helped relieve stress of a very different kind than what they'd done last night and this afternoon.

Then, while his subconscious worked on plan B, he let the rest of him be happy that the two of them would be getting married soon. At least he hoped so.

Sounds in the underbrush sent his left hand reaching for the knife under his vest. Natasha returned carrying her discarded dress, looking very sexy in the form-hugging pants and flowing tunic, her waist cinched by the wide belt. A knife was on display and Clint knew that it was only for show because she had at least three others that couldn't be seen. But then, that was the idea. One that could be seen and taken if you were captured, and others they didn't know about and may overlook. A practice that had saved them both on numerous occasions.

She threw the dress into the back of the wagon with more force than was necessary in his opinion, though understandable given the circumstances. "So, plan B would be to stay within receiver range for a while just in case Selvig's calculations were off."

"It also could've not worked the first time and needs time to recharge. Whatever the reason, we need to stay close by until we know for sure."

Throwing her hands up and letting them slap against her thighs, Natasha made a sound of frustration. "What happens if we have to leave and the portal opens while we're too far away to make it in time?"

Clint began pacing and rubbing the back of his neck. At times like this, his shoulders would ache from the tension. "Hope Selvig has the sonofab******* thing working to the point he can keep using it and make sure we're here every seven days."

"If we get stuck, we'll need someplace to live. The inn is nice, but it'll get expensive if this goes on for more than a couple of weeks."

"We can't live in a tent, especially if we're here when winter comes. I, for one, am not freezing my ass off for anyone."

Natasha stopped her own pacing to look at him. "No one?"

For the first time that day, Clint actually chuckled. "For you and Annabelle…"

"…Ainsley."

"Absolutely. For Coulson," he waggled his free hand, "maybe. But no one else."

Now Natasha was smiling. "Not even someone you once slept with?"

He turned Natasha around, his arms held loosely around her waist. "It was over between me and Hill a long time ago. We're just friends."

His fiancée-he loved that word!-reared back in surprise. "You and Hill? I was talking about that pilot. What was her name?"

Sensing a trap, Clint pretended to think long and hard before answering. "Don't remember. I've forgotten every woman but you."

With her hands resting on his chest, Natasha's eyes sparkled with humor telling him that he'd been busted…again. "See to it or the Black Widow will reappear like that," she snapped her fingers.

As their lips made contact, a sound, like the call of some fantastic beast roared through the glen followed by wind strong enough to flatten the grass and turn this part of the loch to whitecaps. It disturbed the usually calm horses. Their soft nickering changing to frightened whinnies as they danced around trying to get free from where they'd been tied.

The strong wind pushed at Clint causing him to stumble and almost fall on top of Natasha. With a few judiciously placed steps, he maneuvered the two of them behind the trunk of a large tree for protection. In his ear he heard the receiver crackling, static drowning out whatever was being said. Shouting to be heard over the roar, he said, "Looks like they got it working."

Clint held on tight as Natasha leaned around the tree blinking rapidly trying to see through the storm that wasn't a storm. "There! I see it!" She ducked out of the way of a small tree that had been uprooted and was flying through the air with such force that she would've been killed by the impact.

The transmission became slightly clearer allowing Fury's voice to come through. "-ury call- Ro- off -nd B – ton. -nding su-s -nd…"

The meaning was clear even if the transmission wasn't. Supplies were being sent through. Hopefully, with something to explain what had happened and when they'd be able to go home. The portal would only stay open a short time. But if they moved from their position, they might be killed. Clint weighed death against getting stranded in the Middle Ages and decided to risk it.

Preparing to fight his way to the portal, he grabbed hold of Natasha's hand, counted to three and moved from this place of relative safety. He quickly ducked behind the tree again, wrapping Natasha in both arms and turning so that his back would take the brunt of the blow when a tree bigger than the previous one slammed against the other side of their hiding place. The wood splintered, turning it into small unguided missiles. A few grazed his arm, but he barely felt it.

A burst of static overwhelmed the signal and it shut down, not with a bang, but a whimper just as the hurricane force winds stopped.

~~O~~

Natasha stayed huddled in the safety of Clint's protection a few seconds longer in case it was only a lull. When nothing more happened, his grip on her loosened and he stepped back. One hand still held onto her and the other was on the hilt of his knife. As if that could stop the wind from throwing something hard enough to kill them.

Had Clint always been this distrustful or had she just not seen it? No, she had seen it. Just not aimed at her. From the first moment they encountered each other, her instincts had said she could trust him. She just didn't believe it and so hadn't even given him the time of day, turning her back on him in a cat-like show of disdain, not even speaking to him until their second meeting.

But Clint had trusted her from that first moment. He'd proven it time and time again. That was why, when she was ready to come in, she asked him take her to Coulson. The senior agent's quiet and calm demeanor was the polar opposite from Clint's brash, aggressive, in-your-face approach to work and life. If he hadn't been there throughout her orientation and indoctrination into the world of the good guys, there was no way to tell what might've happened to her. And she wouldn't trade one minute of the time they'd spent together for anything. "What happened?"

Clint huffed. "You're here. I'm here. We heard the same thing. What makes you think I know more than that?"

Crossing her arms, Natasha began tapping her foot. "My aren't we b***** today."

Motioning for her to follow, Clint stepped over the remains of the tree that had nearly killed them, twitching his shoulders where the splinters had stuck in his back. "We deserve to be because we are stranded three hundred-fifty ****** years in the past. Our ride drove right by us without even slowing down," he made an overly dramatic sweeping motion to illustrate his analogy, "only God knows when it'll be back and He ain't telling."

Clint held out his hand to help her over an especially large chunk of tree and she took it without the usual snide comments about being treated as an equal. "I'm not asking you to read their minds, Clint. I want your opinion."

He opened his mouth, probably to make another snarky remark, snapping it shut when she held up her hand for silence. "Did you hear that?"

Confused, he said, "No. What is it?"

Natasha cocked her head to the side listening, and there, at the very limits of her hearing she heard a beeping. It was a different tone than the one from the analyzer. She followed the sound, and Clint followed her knowing better than to speak while she was tracking.

As she neared the location of the sound, she noticed something, pointing it out to Clint. He nodded seeing the pattern too. The damage and destruction fanned out at ninety degrees from a central point, the place where she'd seen the portal.

Crouching next to the tip of the wedge, Clint examined the soil uncovered by the violent intrusion. Looking around and doing calculations in his head, he nodded in satisfaction. "This is where the portal originated."

Natasha came toward him carrying several sacks. She handed two to Clint motioning for him to follow her to the wagon. Spreading out her discarded dress, she dumped the first bag out, snatching up the digital recorder. Pressing the power button, she looked at Clint and grinned at the sound of Fury's voice.

"Agents Barton and Romanoff. I'm very sorry to have to give you this news, but the device by which you traveled to your present location has malfunctioned. Even if you had been in the exact place and time that it was opened, you would not have been able to enter the portal. If this recording has reached you, rest assured that Dr. Selvig and his team are working day and night to get you home. Return to this spot in six weeks. At that time, Selvig expects to…What?!" An anxious voice in the background Natasha couldn't hear clearly interrupted Fury. After a few whispered words, he continued. "Correction: six-zero days. God be with you, Natasha and Clint."

Pushing the hair off her forehead, Natasha huffed out a long breath of air. "Translation: We're not going home today."

Crossing his arms, Clint echoed the huff. "Addendum: We have to get jobs."

"Correction: you have to get a job. I'm the wife, remember? I'm not expected to work." He smiled and her stomach did a little flip. Yeah. She loved him. A lot.

"Can't wait to make it real." Sorting through the items spread out in front of them, he called her attention to the packages of various medications. Antibiotics, antivirals, anti-depressants. In short, at least one representative from the most common drug categories. Holding up the bottle containing green anti-depressants tablets and shaking his head, Clint commented with a wry tone, "Not nearly enough."

While she appreciated the director's thoughtfulness, neither she nor Clint were the type to need drug intervention to keep their sense of humor. "I can make something just as effective from herbs growing in the area, but we'll hold onto it just in case."

~~O~~

The recording from Fury had come through a little garbled and at first Clint had wondered if the trip through the portal had damaged the device, but when Natasha didn't mention it, he knew that the fault lay with him. The ringing and buzzing in his ears that had plagued him off and on throughout his adult life thanks to an incident while undercover at Cross Technological Enterprises was growing more pronounced.

Several years before Clint joined SHIELD, CEO William Cross, also known as the villain Crossfire, had used Clint and his paramour, Mockingbird to test an ultrasonic device meant to brainwash superheroes into fighting each other. Clint had broken the effects of the device by bursting his own eardrums.

At the end of the conflict, Mockingbird had proposed marriage to him, and though there had been a strong physical attraction, and even love, he turned her down. A few years later, she disappeared and there was talk that she had been lost in the past due to the malfunction of a device similar to the one Selvig had created. Nothing could be done at the moment so Clint tried to deal with it as best he could.

Letting out a silent sigh at the memories that had been coughed up by his brain, Clint forced a smile. "Fury sent cash, but it won't last long if we stay at the inn."

"Not much call for spies and assassins. I'll have a talk with Griselda. Offer to help out in the kitchen and garden in exchange for room and board."

Nodding, Clint headed for the horses and began hooking them up to the cart. "I might be able to talk Tavish into hiring me as entertainment a night or two a week. The rest of the time, I could help take care of the animals, run errands, that sort of thing."

Hands on her hips, Natasha squinted into the sun. "We should probably hang out here another day or so before going back to town in order to back up our story."

"Of course. I'll put the tent back up."

"I'll help." His fiancée dug in the back of the wagon, taking out the poles and ropes. Going to her side, he picked up the treated cloth of the tent and trailed after her. When that chore was done, she stood there looking like she didn't know what to do next.

Taking her hand, he gave her an encouraging smile. "Come on. Let's go for a ride."

"Want help hooking up the horses?"

"No need. We're going bareback."

Again, she gave him the look where she was trying to decide if he was joking or not.

Not giving her a chance to overthink it, Clint drew her over to where the horses were chomping on the bright green grass at the water's edge. They looked up as he approached and he could swear they knew what he had in mind. He gave her a leg up onto the back of the bay then jogged to the wagon, coming back with the bow, quiver and the crossbow.

Mounting the black and white mini-Clydesdale, he turned him in the direction of Ainsley's obstacle course. On the way, he held out the crossbow. "Think you can handle this little puppy?"

Natasha laughed as she took the weapon from him. "Anything you can do, I can do better."

"Oh?" Though he tried to keep a straight face, his patented smirk jumped out as he leaned close to whisper in her ear. "What about…"

She burst out laughing, a light pink tint coloring her cheeks surprising him because she never blushed. "You got me there. Though you have to admit that I did make a strong come-back."

Before long, they neared the entrance to the forest. Signaling for the horses to stop, Clint nodded at the crossbow. "Wanna check it out before we go?"

"Do you also introduce yourself and apologize to your mark before putting an arrow through him? Let's do it."

Gesturing with his left hand while the right held his bow at the ready, Clint said, "After you."

Through the material of her pants, he saw her strong thigh muscles contract as she gripped the horse with her knees. The crossbow had been altered to allow multiple shots without reloading. She shouted, "Ye-ah!" and the horse bounded into a gallop.

Clint gave her a few seconds head start then chased after her. "Gi-up!"

~~O~~

The end of the course opened into a glen that looked like it stretched up to the sun. Small animals-and some not-so-small, scampered and slunk through the tall grass, flowers and weeds. From here, the forest looked dark and forbidding though Ainsley knew that the most dangerous thing lurking, aside from a few hungry bears, were the humans who used the practice course as a shortcut from Laomainn to the next village. She neither knew nor would she care that this area eventually became known as the Trossachs National Park and that to the northeast would lay Queen Elizabeth Forest Park.

All that concerned the girl was getting in a few hours archery practice each day she was able to get away. These times were necessary if she were going to compete in the upcoming tournament held the weekend of the summer solstice coming up soon. It would improve her skills if Da would let her use one of the horses, but he denied her on the grounds that they were work animals and not meant for frivolous pursuits.

His constant refusal irked her, though she understood. As members of the farming class, they didn't have the luxury of keeping horses for anything other than pulling the wagon and plow. Sometimes, just to be perverse, Ainsley would pretend she was a long lost princess and that one day, her parents would come to take her with them to a grand castle perched on top of an enormous hill. Her days would be filled with riding her favorite horse, shooting her bow and sitting on the end of the dock with her toes dangling in the water.

But that wasn't her life. She, like the rest of the family, worked the fields, tended to the livestock and loved each other like there was no tomorrow.

Coming to her favorite spot, Ainsley removed her bow and quiver, setting them on the ground at her side. The pack she wore came off then she sat down with her legs crossed, the skirt of her dress covering them. Taking out a hard piece of wood, sheets of paper and several pieces of charcoal, she held them in her lap and closed her eyes, letting the breeze ruffle her long and very curly red hair.

Some who'd seen her said that Ainsley could be the younger sister of Princess Merida, who was also very adept at the bow. She dismissed these comments as nonsense. The delusions of men and women who spent too much time working and not enough of it playing. Ainsley was young, but had strong opinions about, well, everything, and wasn't shy about expressing them, often exasperating her parents and embarrassing her siblings. Her friends, however, completely understood whatever it was inside her head that made her so outspoken.

Ainsley had dreams of one day becoming the leader of their village. She'd expressed the desire one evening while the family sat around the table eating. Winifred and Brendan had laughed and her parents had given each other a look that she had been at a loss to interpret. It was as if each were blaming the other for her obstinacy and determination to do well for herself. Now that King Fergus and the allied clans had abolished the mandatory marriage law, there would be no selection of suitors paraded before her when she'd gone thirteen in just over a year. She didn't mention it, but she was very glad that His Majesty was so forward thinking. If arranged marriages were a thing of the past, how long would it be until women were afforded all the same choices that men had?

Looking down at the page in her lap, Ainsley saw that her hands had once again drawn something from beyond her conscious mind. Something that usually came to her only in dreams. She'd drawn the image of a boat that flew through the air as easily as it did on the water. The boat was so enormous it carried smaller versions of itself that could take off and land like birds, all while the ship sailed through the clouds.

The thundering of horse's hooves on the hard packed ground came from the forest sending her scurrying out of sight behind the rock against which she'd been leaning. As they passed, she heard voices. A man and a woman, both familiar.

The horses and riders burst out of the forest and into the sunlight, both laughing as if they hadn't a care in the world.

Natasha and Clint. What were they doing here when they should be searching for their daughter? Every time she'd encountered them, Ainsley had gotten the sense that they were honest and forthright in the things they said. But now she began to question her own instincts. If they had lied about this, then why were they still here?

In the square the other day, Ainsley had seen the way Natasha had looked at each girl that had come near, assuming that she was hoping to see her child's face, though now, in her memory, Natasha's gaze seemed predatory. If they'd lied about something as important as looking for their daughter then what else had they lied about?

Ainsley gathered her things together to return home, wondering how she could have trusted to either of them.

TBC