A few notes on the story: each chapter begins with a flashback, it is almost completely written so updates should come every day, and I will put additional warnings at the top of each chapter as they apply.
This story is rated M for violence, mentions of past abuse, torture scenes, and later sexual content.
Please don't hesitate to review! I would love to hear what people think.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters/organizations/plotlines related to them. If I did, we'd have a lot more Black Widow and Hawkeye.
Shout out to Plucie and buddha49 for the reviews :)
Moscow, Russia—1992
Natalia sprinted into her parents' bedroom and jumped onto their bed without hesitation.
"Time to get up!" she demanded, pushing her father's shoulder to make him wake up.
The man groaned and forced his eyes open. A smile spread across his face as he saw the little girl sitting next to him, "Good morning, princess. Now why are you up so early?"
Natalia grinned and moved to make sure her mother was awake, "We're going to Ireland today!"
Her father chuckled and caught her before she woke up her mother, "Yes, but our plane doesn't leave for a long time still. Perhaps we can all get some more sleep."
Natalia shook her head emphatically, "No! I'm too excited to sleep."
"Perhaps we can at least let your mama sleep," he offered.
The red head considered his suggestion before nodding, "Okay papa. But can you make breakfast? I'm hungry."
Dr. Romanova smiled at his daughter and agreed to her request, allowing her to drag him out of the room after he'd put his slippers and dressing robe on.
He was standing in the kitchen, working to prepare a suitable breakfast for his daughter when the doorbell rang.
Natalia stopped her rambling about finding leprechauns and fairies in Ireland to look at her father curiously.
"Shall we see who that is?" he said, trying to keep his tone light. The doorbell wouldn't have rung that morning unless something was wrong.
His daughter ran ahead of him and unlocked the door, pulling it open slowly. She blinked up at the two men in uniform standing on the steps.
"Who are you?" Natalia demanded.
Dr. Romanova stepped in front of his daughter and offered an apologetic smile to the two men, "Please forgive my daughter's rudeness. She's too young to understand formalities. Would you like to come in?"
The darker haired man spoke, "No need Doctor, we're simply here to tell you that you're presence has been requested tonight."
Dr. Romanova ran his hand through his hair, "I'm sorry, but I can't make it. My family and I are leaving on a trip this afternoon. It's been planned and approved for six months."
The man shook his head, "That's unfortunate, but it doesn't change the fact that you will be there tonight."
After a moment of hesitation, during which the second man sent a pointed glance at Natalia.
"Of course," Dr. Romanova said.
The two men turned and walked away without another word.
Natalia looked at her father, big green eyes worried as she picked up on his tension, "Papa, is everything okay?"
Dr. Romanova shut the door, "Yes, Natalia. But it looks like I'm going to have to work tonight."
"What about Ireland?"
The man shrugged, "I think perhaps we should wake up your mother and ask her what she thinks. But I know that I won't be able to join the two of you there."
"Oh," Natalia said sadly. "It's okay Papa, we can go another time when you don't have to work!"
SHIELD Base, New York—2008
Clint grinned when his handler entered the gym and called out to the man, "You're late."
"Barely," Phil replied drily.
Clint's grin only widened, "Come on old man, let's get started."
"I'm only seven years older than you…"
"So, yeah, old."
"You're in a good mood," Phil remarked as he moved closer to begin sparring.
Clint threw a lazy cross at him, giving them both a chance to warm up before the real work began, "Yeah, Romanoff should be getting back soon."
Natasha had been given a mission along with a handful of brand new agents a few days ago. It was meant as an opportunity for her to get back to work without pushing her too hard at first. Clint had a feeling she'd come back annoyed and bored, and that the agents she was with would be scarred for life.
Phil tried to hide his frown and sent a kick towards Clint, "You and she seem pretty close…"
Another punch came towards Phil's head. He ducked and circled away a bit.
"Yeah, we've been bonding."
"I'll admit," Phil said after a few more blows were exchanged. "You were right about her being a good asset."
Clint beamed.
"I'm still not sure she isn't going to turn on us any moment," Phil warned.
The younger man charged him and sent several kicks and blows aimed at him. When they disengaged, Phil saw that Clint was getting twitchy and wanting to get going with the real fight.
"I trust her," Clint declared.
Phil nodded, "That's all well and good…"
"But…?"
"But I'm afraid you're going to get hurt," Phil plowed on, watching his agent and hoping the younger man wouldn't shut him out. "I can see you've developed feelings for her. You know that SHIELD protocol forbids relationships between partners, and between non-partners there's still permissions to get and forms to fill out…"
Clint remained silent.
"I don't want you to get involved with her because she's only going to hurt you," Phil finished warily.
Clint nodded once, "Thanks for the advice, but you're wrong."
Phil was opening his mouth to ask what he was wrong about when the younger man dove forward and began the fight he'd been looking for. Phil found himself falling on the defensive and backed up quickly, making sure to keep his guard up. That conversation had gone about as well as he'd hoped it would. But Clint's lack of response worried him, no doubt Clint would ignore his warnings…
Phil just hoped he was wrong and wouldn't be left trying to put together a broken Clint Barton when all was said and done.
"As you know, the IRA has been increasing activity in the last few months. SHIELD has been monitoring the situation and feels that we need to be intervening since threats have been made against various government officials, including both President Mary McAleese and Prime Minister Brian Cowen," Phil lectured from the front of the briefing room. "Latest intel shows them claiming responsibility for a landmine attack in June and most recently, shooting civil servants for cooperating with the police in Northern Ireland."
"The three of us are going in to see if we can stop any further attacks, most importantly, we need to ensure the survival of the current government."
Natasha nodded, "We'll probably need to get in with the IRA then, find out what their plans are."
"The biggest problem with that is time," Phil replied. "We're going to be working on a tight schedule because we need to be in position by the end of August."
"That's a month and a half," Clint pointed out. "Surely we have enough time to establish some roots."
"Based on previous attempts to infiltrate, agents ended up spending the better part of a year getting in far enough to find out anything of value. It's a pretty close-knit group," Phil explained. "I'm not saying don't try, but that's not the focus of this assignment."
"We'll be relying on intel from whom, then?" Natasha asked.
"We have two agents in deep cover already," Phil said. "They'll be sending us everything they can."
"So if we aren't infiltrating the IRA, what are we doing?" Clint demanded.
"The two of you will be working to gather information from sources associated with but not actually part of the IRA," Phil elaborated. "You'll end up traveling around for most of the time, and hopefully you'll be able to find us some information. A lot of it will just be surveillance of suspected IRA headquarters."
Clint groaned.
"Mid-August, you'll return to Dublin, where I'll have spent my time working to protect the government officials and gain their trust. There's a large gala on September 1st. We believe that any attack will happen there, so, that's where we'll be most vigilant if we haven't already stopped the IRA."
"Sound simple enough," Natasha said.
Clint nodded, "I get that it's important but it seems like it's a bit below our level."
Phil's lips tightened, "Fury and I both have a gut feeling that we'll need the two of you on this one. Hopefully we're wrong and it ends up being a piece of cake."
"As long as it doesn't end up like Siberia, I'll take it," Clint muttered.
Natasha scoffed, "What are you complaining about? You didn't get injured or sick."
"No," he agreed. "But I did have to do all the work since my partner was down for the count."
Natasha rolled her eyes and turned back to Phil, "Do we have covers for this?"
Phil smirked, "Yes, two sets. One you can use while gathering information, the other will be used only for the gala. I'll have the dossiers to you by the end of the day and you can get to work on those."
"Two covers?" Clint groaned. "Come on. Can't I just go find the leader of the IRA and shoot him?"
Phil shook his head, "Sorry, but that's not an option."
Clint sighed, "Fine."
"We're done for today," Phil announced. "Just make sure to keep going through the packet I gave you about the IRA's actions for the past decade. Tomorrow we'll check in and see if you have any questions about the covers. We leave on Friday, so make sure you're ready."
The agents nodded and stood, exiting the room in silence.
Phil slouched down in his chair for a moment and offered up a silent prayer to any god listening that Clint got his wish and that the mission didn't end up like Siberia had. He would really appreciate a nice, easy mission he'd decided. And hopefully, he wouldn't even have to worry about his agents' possible romantic involvement.
Dublin, Ireland—2008
Ireland was just so…green, Natasha mused as their plane landed on the tarmac at Dublin Airport. Flying in over the countryside, after they'd dropped below the clouds, revealed a land filled with green fields. Honestly, it was a bit disconcerting for someone who'd grown up seeing the greens and browns of the Russian forests and then spent most of her life in and around cities. She was also surprised by the number of sheep she could see from the window as they descended.
While they waited to taxi to the disembarking zone, Natasha turned to Clint, "Have you ever been to Ireland before?"
He shook his head, "Actually yes. Pre-SHIELD I found myself being offered some good money by a wealthy IRA supporter to take out the current head of the IRA, the supporter didn't like the direction they were going in. But I'm pretty sure this is the first big-op SHIELD's run in Ireland since the late nineties, right Phil?"
Coulson looked up from his tablet, "That's right."
"It's a gorgeous country, which we'll be seeing plenty of," Clint continued. "We just need to make sure that you don't forget to taste some good ol' Guinness and potatoes are definitely a must."
Natasha shrugged, willing to go along with her partner's antics for the time being. She was in a good mood.
"Let's go," Phil commanded as the door opened and they were able to make their way down the stairs and into the sunlight.
"Phil," Clint called from the bottom of the steps. "Shouldn't it be raining?"
Phil's forehead wrinkled in confusion, "What do you mean?"
"Well, I just expected that my first time in Ireland with SHIELD would live up to all of the stereotypes about Ireland. You know, rain, sheep, potatoes, beer, IRA…"
Phil rolled his eyes, "And why would you think that?"
"Well first time I went to Canada I ended up eating maple syrup on everything, getting chased by a moose, and ran into some very polite Mounties," Clint replied. "I've just come to expect those kinds of things to happen with SHIELD."
"Sorry to disappoint," Phil said. "Now get in the car."
Natasha slid into the backseat and leaned forward so she could talk to her partner in the passenger's seat, "Chased by a moose, huh?"
Clint turned to scrutinize her for a moment, "I don't want to talk about it. It was a traumatic experience and you're just going to mock me for it."
"Now why on earth would I want to mock you about being traumatized by a moose?" she shot back.
Clint folded his arms and sank down into his seat, pouting, "Phil, she's being mean to me."
"And what do you think I'm going to do about it?" Phil asked with a mocking grin.
The archer's pout deepened, "You're both mean…"
"Barton," Natasha hissed in his ear, startling him and making him straighten quickly. "You don't want to see me when I'm feeling mean."
Clint felt a slight chill run down his spine at her words, No. He didn't think he did. He knew his partner had the ability to be fairly sadistic when she put her mind to it, but he'd never see her be outright malicious and cruel. It was something he hoped he would never experience.
"So when are we going to eat?" Clint asked, effectively changing the subject.
Phil rolled his eyes, "After we've set up the safe house."
"Fine. But I'm picking the pub."
"It's not even ten in the morning," Natasha pointed out.
Clint shrugged, "So? We're in Ireland, it's never too early to go to a pub!"
"Whatever you say moose-bait," Natasha smirked from the backseat.
Clint whirled to face her as Phil's eyes widened in shock.
"It was a very angry moose!"
Phil thought that hearing Fury was running off to join the ballet would make more sense than what he'd just witnessed, Romanoff had just made a joke and seemed to be taking pleasure in bantering with Clint. What was the world coming too?
They set up the safe house relatively quickly, helped along by Clint's desire to go out into the city and find something to eat. Phil grudgingly agreed to join the assassins, knowing that they both had too much energy to do any actual strategizing at the moment.
The small pub they found—after Clint refused to go to any that claimed to serve "Traditional Irish Food," he asserted those were the tourist traps they wanted to avoid—served very good food and was willing to give them three large pints of Guinness without judging them for the early hour.
Phil appraised Natasha for a moment when she took a swig of her beer, he shook his head as she set it down.
"What?" Clint asked, noticing the motion.
"It just seems wrong, letting her drink," Phil tried to explain hopelessly.
Clint chuckled, "Hey, she's legal here. And she's almost legal in the US."
"That doesn't make me feel better…"
Natasha smirked at him, "Coulson, I am willing to be that I could drink both you and Barton under the table."
Phil sized her up.
"Just remember she's Russian," Clint chortled. "They have vodka in their blood."
Natasha kicked him under the table, making the young man flinch and glare at her.
"Okay," Phil announced as he finished eating his food. "I'm going back to see if I can get some work done. The two of you have way too much energy, so please, go do something. I'll see you for dinner and we can get to work on planning out where you need to go."
"You're seriously letting us go wild in the city for the afternoon?" Clint asked incredulously.
Phil shrugged, "You want to stay at the house and plan with me?"
Natasha stood up and grabbed Clint by his bicep, "Come on, before he changes his mind. You may have been here before but I haven't."
Phil watched them leave with a small smile. He felt that he may have been granted a rare glance at the real Natasha Romanoff, the one hiding beneath the emotionless mask she usually wore, the young woman Clint had decided to save. He shook his head and threw down a handful of euros on the table to cover the bill.
Clint followed Natasha with a bemused smile as she walked down the street, "So where are we headed?"
She shrugged, "I don't know. What does one do when visiting Dublin?"
Clint shrugged in response, "You mean like tourist stuff? I know that I took a day to go see the main sites last time I was here."
Natasha smiled slightly at him.
"Shall we play tourists today?" he asked.
She nodded and allowed him to take the lead.
"You're in a good mood," he remarked.
"It's nice to get out of the states," she said. "And it isn't often that I get to have down time while on a mission, at least not enough to actually do anything with it."
"I know what you mean," Clint replied. "Did you ever get to do any sightseeing while working for the Red Room?"
She shook her head, "Not any for fun. Anything I saw, I only saw because following the target took me past it or it was too big to miss."
Clint shook his head, making a resolution to make sure she did some sightseeing on every mission from here on out. It was time for Natasha to have some fun.
"Did you do a lot of sightseeing before SHIELD?" she asked after a moment.
Clint smirked, "Actually yeah. I was a kid from the middle-of-nowhere-America, so I had a blast going to every famous monument I could in every city I visited. It helped me to forget what I was there for, even if it was just for a little while, I felt like I was a normal person marveling over all the incredible sights."
Natasha nodded in understanding.
"So, first stop today is St. Patrick's Cathedral. No visit to Dublin is complete without it," Clint informed her with a smile.
"St. Patrick as in the guy with the snakes?" Natasha clarified.
"That's the one."
Clint led the way down into the city's subway system and quickly navigated them back out to the surface, less than two blocks away from the cathedral.
He barely glanced at their surroundings as they stepped inside, choosing to focus on watching his partner instead. Her jaw dropped slightly as she stepped into the semi-dim interior. She took in a deep breath and walked farther inside, moving to stand just inside the rows of chairs. Her face seemed to light up as she took in the various sculptures and stained glass decorating the church.
"It's incredible," she breathed. A moment later, she laid eyes on the altar and her expression darkened.
"Natasha?" Clint asked, worried about the sudden change in her demeanor.
Without a word, Natasha walked forward a few rows and moved to sit on the far chair, next to the columns lining the nave.
Clint sat beside her and waiting, hoping she would tell him what was going through her mind.
"You know," she began finally. "One of the few memories I have from before they took me is of going to church…"
Clint felt a sharp pain in his chest at her words.
"I don't think I've been in a church in fourteen years," she continued, voice soft. "I guess I didn't expect to feel so—much—when we walked in."
"We can go if you want," Clint offered, unsure what else to say. He knew nothing would ease the pain of her childhood or make her memories any easier to bear.
She shook her head, "If it's okay with you, I'd like to sit for a while."
"Not a problem."
The two assassins sat in silence for several minutes, looking at the altar to a god neither of them believed in and wondering what life would be like had things turned out differently in their childhoods.
"What else have you got to show me?" Natasha said, breaking the silence.
Clint allowed a crooked grin to cross his face, "I can think of a few more things, but first, we need to go see all the fancy noble tombs they've got in here."
Natasha followed him out of the chairs and around the aisles of the church. She felt far more peaceful than she had in years.
Phil strode purposefully through the halls of the Irish Parliament (the Oireachtas Éireann) building in search of McAleese and Cowen. They were both giving speeches to the parliament today, and Phil really needed to talk to them. So far, both had been especially slippery when it came to agreeing to meet with him. Clint and Natasha had left a week earlier to begin speaking to former IRA members and others with connections to the organization outside of Dublin. Phil had been on his own while trying to establish a connection with the government.
With a confident step, he rounded a corner and hurried over to where he saw Cowen standing with an entourage of secretaries and a few members of parliament.
"Prime Minister Cowen," Coulson greeted the man warmly, ignoring the security team that stepped forward when he approached. "I'm Agent Phil Coulson, I've been trying to set up a meeting with you and President McAleese about matters of security. I work for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."
Cowen forced a smile, "Right, of course. Unfortunately the President and I are quite occupied, perhaps we can schedule a meeting sometime later in the month."
"I'm afraid I have to insist," Coulson said politely.
Cowen studied him for a moment, "Well if it must be now, I was just on my way to see the President. You'll have to make it quick though, the press is expecting us in half and hour."
"It shouldn't take too long," Coulson assured the man.
The group moved through the building, slowing every time Cowen saw a new member of parliament and stopped to talk. Coulson felt himself growing impatient, but forced himself to wait for the man to finish each conversation. He would not be deterred by Cowen's obvious attempts to prevent the meeting.
They finally arrived at the room the President was using as an office/staging area for her visit to the Parliament that day.
"President McAleese," Cowen greeted her formally. "We're ready when you are."
Coulson stepped forward.
The Prime Minister failed to hide his triumphant smile when he laid eyes on the shorter man, "Ah, yes, Agent—-"
"Coulson."
"Yes, Agent Coulson," his practically sneered as he said the name. "It seems that we shall have to postpone our meeting as we really must get going."
The President looked at Coulson in confusion, "Who is this Cowen?"
Cowen frowned, "No one important."
"I'm Agent Phil Coulson ma'am," Phil supplied offering his hand. He had a feeling the woman would be more receptive to him, since she was the one who had been asking for international aid in shutting down the renewed IRA threats. "I work for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."
"President Mary McAleese," she replied, shaking his hand. "Unfortunately, my colleague is right and we do need to be going."
"It's an urgent matter, ma'am," Coulson continued with a stern look. "It won't take too long to discuss."
McAleese glanced at her watch, "They can't start the press conference without us. Patrick, please tell the press we'll be there shortly but that we're running a bit late."
A young aid ran off as bid.
"Cowen," McAleese commanded, "Let's just step inside my office for a moment."
The woman led them into the room, gesturing for security and all of the aides to remain outside. She missed the glare Cowen shot at Phil.
"Is this about the threats they've made against us?" McAleese asked bluntly.
"Yes," was Coulson's firm reply.
She nodded, "I'm not too worried about it, but it is nice to see that the international community is taking things seriously."
"We believe that this is actually a very credible threat to both of you," Coulson said.
"And what makes you the experts on that?" Cowen demanded.
"You may not have heard of my organization before, but trust me when I say that is because we are very good at what we do. We have information that has led us to the conclusion that the IRA will attempt and attack sometime in late August."
"What do you propose we do?" McAleese asked.
"For now, increase your personal security," Coulson began. "We'd also like to stay in touch with you. I will serve as a liaison. SHIELD agents in the area are aware of the situation and we're bringing in a couple of specialists in order to neutralize the threat. You'll meet them in August."
McAleese nodded, "Sounds good to me. I can put you in touch with my head of security, he should be able to keep you in the loop, I only ask that you do the same."
"Of course, our primary goal is your safety."
"Mary," Cowen said patronizingly. "I don't think we should be trusting some shadowy organization that shows up out of nowhere. For all we know, they could be a front for the IRA."
McAleese turned to face the other man, her voice cold when she spoke, "Brian, I actually do know a little bit about SHIELD, having had contact with them when I worked in the UN. They can be trusted and they are the best. If they believe the threats are credible, then the threats are credible. We will go along with their security plans because I would prefer if neither of us lost our seats before the next election."
"But—" Cowen protested.
"No," she interrupted him. "You will follow my orders on this or I will call for a vote. We may both lose, but most importantly, you will be forced to step down. I can regain my position, can you regain yours?"
Cowen looked suitably cowed and nodded once in defeat.
Phil nodded, "Thank you for our cooperation. If you could just get me in touch with your head of security, I'll leave my contact information. I won't keep you from your press conference any longer."
McAleese smiled, "Of course."
The trio stepped out of the room and she beckoned forward one of her aides, "Charlotte, please introduce Agent Coulson to Brunswick."
Phil gave another nod to the two politicians. He followed Charlotte away from the group and to another floor to meet this Brunswick person. He was glad to have finally met with the two most important people they were meant to be protecting.
Cowen turned to McAleese once the man was out of sight, scowling, "I don't trust him. I don't know why you're so eager to bring other people into this. We've handled the IRA before and we'll be able to handle them now."
McAleese just smiled at him, "And I think it never hurts to have some extra help."
Clint stood atop the Cliffs of Moher, relishing the way the wind ruffled his hair and carried the smell of the ocean up the sheer rocks. He looked over at Natasha to find her lying on the ground, propped up on her elbows. She looked relaxed and relatively happy as the wind tugged at her braid, pulling small strands of hair free.
The last three weeks had almost felt like a vacation for the assassins. They'd been able to spend most of their time enjoying the Irish countryside and interacting with the locals. Their brief stop in Northern Ireland had even gone well, with the people more than willing to share their thoughts on the current political situation. In one small town in Cork, they ended up stopped for several days, trying to make contact with a local hermit. They'd ended up bonding a bit with the Parish church minister and his sister.
Clint could honestly say that this mission could turn out to be one of his favorites. If it continued the way it had been going, things would end up being easy, just as he'd predicted. But Clint wasn't foolish enough to believe that things would end up going completely smoothly. Luckily the mission was far below testing the skills of the assassins, so they'd been able to spend plenty of time relaxing.
"What time is she getting here?" Natasha asked, looking up at Clint and squinting in the sunlight.
Clint shrugged, "She wasn't very specific. She just said sometime between three and five…"
"That's helpful."
Clint lay in the grass beside his partner, "Yeah, well we can't really complain about the location. It's a hell of a view."
"That it is," Natasha agreed, lying down all the way. "Although what she'll think when she sees us laying in the grass like children will be interesting…"
"I'm sure she'll get a kick out of it."
In their three weeks of traveling, they'd managed to gain the confidence of an IRA member's girlfriend. Annie O'Hare was her name and she said her boyfriend wanted out and that they'd help the assassins if they would help the boyfriend get out in turn. They'd agreed to the deal with minimal fuss from Phil and soon found themselves with a valuable ally. Natasha appreciated the older woman's audacity while Clint got a kick out of her lack of filter. She'd taken to calling the assassins "children" upon realizing they were far younger.
"It's almost going to be sad when we have to go back to New York," Clint ventured a few minutes later. "I mean, Ireland is wonderful."
Natasha smiled at him, "I'm sure we'll manage though."
Clint shrugged, "Still, I figure since I've got a safe house here I should try to visit more often."
"You've got a safe house in Ireland?" Natasha asked, curiosity piqued. She had assumed the man had safe houses like she did, but he'd never mentioned them before.
"Yeah, but I'm not saying where. And no, SHIELD isn't aware of its existence, much as I'm sure they aren't aware of all of yours."
"What's the point of having a safe house if everyone knows about it."
"Exactly," Clint chuckled before turning to look at Natasha. "You know, you've been way more relaxed on this mission than I've ever seen you before."
Natasha gave a half-shrug in response, "It helps that I've been sleeping decently."
"Tell me about it," Clint said. For most of the mission they'd been sharing a bed, and though neither of them had mentioned it before today, they were both sleeping far better as a result.
"Agents?" called a willowy voice from behind them.
They both pushed themselves up to see none other than Annie O'Hare approaching.
Clint grinned at her, putting on his charming attitude easily, "Annie, my darling love, you look lovely today."
Natasha brushed the grass off her pants and rolled her eyes at her partner's comments.
Annie chuckled, "Careful there, Agent Barton, you wouldn't want a lass to get the wrong idea."
"And what makes you think it's the wrong idea?" Clint commented with a cheeky smile.
Annie swatted at him halfheartedly and laughed, "Just wait until I get home and tell Jack what you've been saying."
"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," Natasha smirked.
Clint shrugged, "Someday, Annie will realize she wants me and that'll be the end of that."
Annie laughed again before sobering up, "There is a reason I asked the two of you to meet me here though. I know it's out of the way, but I was working nearby and I always come up here when I work. I also wanted to make sure we weren't overheard."
"You have information?" Natasha asked.
"Yes," Annie said. "I think we know what their plan is."
The assassins waited for her to continue speaking.
"Jack heard they were planning to attack that fancy gala the government's having to celebrate the 'peace.' They've got a few bombs we think, but they probably aren't going to use them to do the damage."
"Then why have the bombs?" Clint muttered.
Annie shrugged, "Probably just to scare people, I know it'd scare me a bit. Anyway, they'll use the confusion from the bombs to take out the targets they named before disappearing. Rumor has it that Byrne wants to make a statement that the war isn't over. He figures attacking their peace celebration will do the trick."
"Anything else?" Natasha asked, wondering why the woman was so worried about being overheard. She hadn't given them much more than they'd pieced together for themselves.
Annie hesitated before speaking, "Jack heard Byrne mention that they've got somebody on the inside who's going to make sure they succeed. Apparently this person knows all of the security plans and will have some control over security."
"That's quite a helpful person to have," Clint commented. "Any idea who it is?"
The Irish woman shook her head, "Sorry, but no. And we aren't even sure how accurate that information is. There's a chance that Byrne is just talking himself up, plenty of people are skeptical of the plan at best."
"Thank you for the information," Natasha said, turning to walk away from the cliffs, knowing that Annie wouldn't want to risk anyone seeing them talking.
"There's one more thing," Annie called the assassins back. "I think that Byrne's getting suspicious of Jack and me. I swear I've been followed twice while going to work. And Jack thinks he's had guys tail him home before too."
The assassins exchanged a glance, before Clint spoke, "We'll take care of it. Just be ready to go if you need to get out quickly."
Annie nodded, "Thanks. I take it you two are headed out of here to put a stop to this."
"That's the plan," Natasha admitted.
"Well good luck to you then, my prayers will be with you," Annie said before she turned away to look out towards the sea.
Once they were out of earshot, Clint turned to Natasha, "We need to get SHIELD watching them to make sure nothing happens."
Natasha nodded in agreement, "We can tell Coulson once we get to the car. We need to confirm that they'll use bombs. And tell him to be on the lookout for a mole."
"I guess vacation's over?" Clint said. "Now we actually have to work."
Natasha shook her head at his disappointed tone, "Well we do have the entire drive back to Dublin…"
Clint grinned, "And hey, we haven't seen Blarney or kissed the Blarney Stone yet!"
"You can kiss it, but I think I'll pass," Natasha wrinkled her nose.
Phil was waiting in the safe house for his agents to return. Though he didn't want to admit it, he had actually missed them during the month they'd been gone. Sporadic check-ins were the most he got from his agents. He had known he'd miss having Clint around, the man was practically his brother despite the turbulent year they'd had. What Phil hadn't expected was that he'd even miss having Romanoff around a bit. She was cold on a good day, but she did help balance out Clint's antics with her cool professionalism. And it never failed to amuse him when she returned Clint's sarcasm without missing a beat.
Glancing at his watch, Phil sighed. They were supposed to have arrived an hour ago, but got stuck in traffic and were now making their way through Dublin very slowly. He knew that Fury would want a full report from the two of the last month by the end of the day, and Phil wanted to hear everything for himself. But it was getting late in the day and they probably weren't going to have as much time as he would have liked before they needed to start working on their plan for the gala.
Just under two weeks until the event, and Clint hadn't even had a chance to scope out the venue. Phil knew his agents were going to feel pressured when they got back to have everything in place and ready to go.
The door to the safe house clicked open and Phil watched as the assassins dragged their bags inside, looking tired and worn.
Clint gave the man a tired smile and move to embrace him, "It's good to see you Phil."
"You look like shit Barton," Phil said, voice tinged with worry.
"It's been a long day full of stupid drivers," Clint replied, moving back to grab his bag and drag it into his room.
Natasha emerged from her own room and sat down at the table with a courteous nod at Phil.
"We need to debrief and then you two are free to go to sleep," Phil told them once they were both seated.
"Fury wants our report today?" Natasha asked.
Phil nodded.
"Well, you already know pretty much everything thanks to our check-ins," Clint said before beginning to recount their actions.
Natasha added on occasionally, throwing in her own opinions on some of the people they'd interacted with. By the time they'd finished talking, it was well past a reasonable time to sleep. Phil had needed to stop them and clarify some points. And then they would get off topic and start talking about the gala in between parts of the story.
Phil finished typing up the report he planned on sending to catch Clint yawning, "Alright, I think it's time for everyone to get some sleep."
They all turned in for the night without another word.
Phil woke only a couple of hours later to motion in the safe house. After a moment of listening, he was able to identify it as Natasha moving around. He wondered what she was doing and was tempted to get up and see if everything was okay. He knew she struggled with dreams as much as Clint did. But he also knew that he didn't have a relationship with her that would allow him to confront her about her nightmares.
A quiet creak alerted him to a door being opened, and if he remembered correctly, the door that creaked belonged to Clint's room.
Swearing silently, he forced himself to roll over and go back to sleep, ignoring whatever his agents were doing until the next day.
Natasha had taken off to find a dress for the gala by the time Phil had woken up the next day.
Phil eyed Clint over the rim of his coffee mug, "So…"
"So…?" Clint replied, clearly confused by what Phil was leading up to.
"You started sleeping together," Phil declared bluntly.
Clint shook his head and frowned, "No. And what gave you that idea?"
"I heard Romanoff get up and go into your room last night," Phil said with a shrug, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.
Clint shook his head again, "It's not what you think."
"No? You and Romanoff haven't been sharing a bed for the last month?"
"Not because we were having sex," Clint shot back, temper flaring. "You know we both have trouble sleeping, sometimes it helps just to have someone to trust lying there."
Phil scoffed, "You really want me to believe that?"
Clint stood up from the table, "You of all people know that my nightmares are pretty damn bad. Trust me when I say hers are worse."
Without a word, Clint moved to the door and opened it.
"Where are you going?" Phil demanded.
"For a run."
Phil set his coffee mug down hard on the counter, "Fuck." He'd screwed that one up, he admitted to himself. He should have expected that Clint wouldn't take it well. And what right did he have to tell Clint what he could and couldn't do in his personal life? While he looked at Clint like a brother, sometimes it was hard to keep himself from trying to always tell the younger man what to do.
And Phil knew that Clint was less than open with him after all of his doubts with bringing Romanoff in, not to mention his continued nagging about how he didn't trust the woman. Perhaps he'd been a bit harsh…
Phil shook his head. No, he'd only been doing what he believed was right. But it was time to cut the crap and admit that Romanoff had been worth the effort so far, and she hadn't done anything to indicate she was going to betray them all.
He owed Clint an apology when the man returned. And he needed to start making more of an effort with Romanoff. Especially if he was right about where Clint's feelings were headed.
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Preview of Next Chapter: The man stumbled backwards and pulled a box with a switch on it out of his jacket.
"Don't," Natasha warned as she lunged for him.
"Bomb!" Clint yelled.