Apologies for the extreme delay in posting this. I'll put my excuses for the delay at the bottom of the chapter if you want to read them. I have finished writing this story and will be updating every day until the end (there are 40 chapters total).
This story is rated M for violence, mentions of past abuse, torture scenes, and sexual content.
Please don't hesitate to review! I love hearing 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.
Thank you to BlackHawk's Child, buddha49, jamie m, Sparky She-Demon, RosexDoctorForever, PiXiSiN, John Bob, louvreangel, sirenian22, ClintandNatasha, Searching for Serentity and the three Guests for reviewing last chapter. Also, thank you to everyone who favorited and followed.
Army Boot Camp, Fort Jackson, South Carolina—2001
Clint walked into the classroom, exhaustion etched onto his face. Everything hurt. His body protested as he sat down in one of the desks. His eyes prickled from the lack of sleep. His head pounded.
Boot camp sucked, he decided.
He spent most of his days being run ragged by exercises outside in the hot sun. After a ten minute shower break each afternoon, he then had to show up to class to learn Army protocols and operating procedures.
The other recruits trickled into the classroom, taking their seats and enjoying the moment to sit before their CO walked into the room.
Right as the clock changed to seventeen hundred the man walked into the room, followed by another officer. The recruits jumped to their feet and stood at attention. They'd learned quickly the proper response to a commanding officer entering.
"Sit," the man barked as he set a stack of papers on the desk at the front of the room.
They sat down in unison, remaining as still as possible while they waited for the man to begin.
"Today you'll be taking an exam over what we've covered so far," the man informed the group. "Sergeant Dawes will ensure that no one is tempted to cheat."
The sergeant moved to stand next to the classroom door at parade rest.
The CO passed out the papers before walking out of the room.
Clint bent over the test in front of him and went to work, breezing through the multiple choice questions easily. Why anyone would need to cheat was a mystery to him. He occasionally glanced up to watch the sergeant. It was nice to know the CO didn't trust them at all.
SHIELD Base, New York—2009
Nick Fury leaned back in his seat, steepling his fingers in front of him. Four other people stood in the room. Maria Hill was behind him, face void of emotion. Phil Coulson stood across the desk, on the left, looking close to mutiny. And in front of him, both alert and attentive stood the Black Widow and Hawkeye.
He stayed silent, ignoring the stares of the agents in the room, debating the information presented to him. It had taken three weeks from their return from São Paolo for SHIELD to verify the information retrieved from the warehouse. How'd they'd missed such a large operation in Chechnya, Fury didn't know.
Right now, he was faced with a dilemma though: the assassins standing in front of him had requested they be sent to pursue the organization, determined to take it down, claiming they were the best choice. Their handler had requested they not be sent anywhere, let alone on such a high-risk mission until whoever kept trying to kill them was discovered. Fury agreed with both of them: they were the best choice, but it was too high of a risk.
Surveying the pair in front of him, he sighed. They were determined to go whether he authorized it or not. "Fine, you two can go."
Phil opened his mouth to start arguing.
Fury held up a hand to stall the man's tirade. "I know this is a huge risk, that's why we'll be taking every precaution to ensure it goes smoothly. You will both follow every order you receive, the moment you don't, I pull you off the mission."
"Sir," Phil said, voice tight with anger. "I still don't think they should go. Until we know who is after them, it's best if both Romanoff and Barton stay on base."
"Phil," Clint interrupted. "People are always going to try to kill us, it doesn't make sense to bench us because someone might try to come after us again while on a mission."
"That's actually why I've asked Hill to come in today," Fury said. "She's been monitoring SHIELD transmissions and chatter concerning your last missions. In doing so, she's uncovered a network of spies feeding information to various Council members. Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do about it at the moment other than start working to place those agents on less important assignments. As it is, the Council can request information from any SHIELD agent at any time, so they aren't technically doing anything illegal."
"Then they're still in danger," Phil said.
"We're limiting access to all information pertaining to this mission as much as possible. For the moment, only the four of us, Sanders, and Parilla are aware that the two of you are being sent. Anyone else informed will have proven their loyalty," Hill explained.
"Why are you helping us?" Natasha asked. She knew Hill wasn't their biggest fan.
The other woman smirked. "While I may take issue with some of your methods, Agent Romanoff, I am firmly against compromising the success of a mission or endangering other agents. We will get this taken care of."
Phil shook his head but stayed silent.
"You'll have a week to prepare, this will give us time to construct new aliases for you and ensure your safe passage to Chechnya," Fury said. "Dismissed."
Clint and Natasha turned and left the room, maintaining their professionalism until they were back in their quarters.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Clint asked once the door had locked behind them.
Natasha nodded, "We need to."
"It's Russia and this goddamn ring," he pointed out. "I'm worried that things are going to go wrong."
"They usually do."
Clint didn't say anything, just looked at her.
Natasha sighed, "Fine, I'm worried too, but I think we need to do this. No one else stands a chance. I know, it's Russia and that always complicates things since I defected, but we can do this. I truly believe that."
"Okay," he said. "Then let's bring these bastards down."
Grozny, Chechnya, Russia—2009
Natasha was tense the entire trip to Chechnya. SHIELD had provided her with a wig and prosthetics to match her new identity, still she worried that they were going to be arrested at the border. She clutched Clint's hand tightly as they passed through customs, hoping the guards would believe their cover as newlyweds coming to meet their respective parents for the first time. It would explain any nervousness that showed. Coulson had travelled in on a separate flight, landing an hour earlier. They didn't know if he'd gotten through and wouldn't until they arrived at the safe house.
Clint rented a nondescript white car for the pair. He blended in with the rest of traffic easily as they left the airport, taking care to not draw any attention. They didn't think they'd been followed, but the drug organization could easily have eyes on the airport, they certainly knew that SHIELD was after them by now.
Twisting his way through the winding streets, Clint followed the directions he'd memorized to get to the safe house. He could feel the anxiety rolling off Natasha. He reached over and took her hand, twining their fingers together and giving her a reassuring smile. One of them needed to stay calm.
The pair separated once inside the house, searching each room for signs of any surveillance or any other people. Phil's bags sitting in one room were the only sign of life. He'd left a scribbled note on the counter: Went for food, back by seven.
Natasha glanced at the clock on the wall, it wasn't quite six. She turned away from Clint, hoping he'd understand her emotions and let her walk away. In the bathroom, she pulled off the wig and went to work removing her prosthetics. The door creaked open behind her and she turned to face Clint, unable to stop her stress from leaking into her expression.
He moved to wrap his arms around her for a moment, letting go soon after, unsure if she wanted his comfort at the moment. She gave him a small, sad smile and moved to her bag, pulling out more comfortable clothing.
Clint mimicked her actions, pulling out his own sweats and shirt. He slipped into them and glanced over to see Natasha pull her tank top over her head.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he finally asked.
She shook her head and pressed her lips together.
"Okay," he said. He led the way back into the main room of the house and took a seat at the table.
Natasha busied herself with checking out the kitchen before she came and sat down next to him, allowing him to hold her hand. The door flew open, sending both assassins to their feet with weapons drawn.
"I've got a name for us," Coulson announced as he breezed into the house, arms filled with bags from the grocery store.
Natasha released the breath she'd been holding and lowered her gun.
Phil gave her a strange look before nodding once, "Right, guess we should make sure to give warning before coming in."
"That would be best," Clint said when Natasha failed to respond.
Phil set the bags on the kitchen counter and went to work putting everything way.
"You said something about a name?" Natasha asked after a few minutes.
Phil nodded, moving to grab his computer and opening the SHIELD database. "Anton Drakov, he's a Russian chemist whom HYDRA has hired to develop the drug."
"So it is HYDRA?" Clint said, examining the profile pulled up on the screen.
Phil shrugged, "It's them and AIM and the Russian mob and whoever wants in. Since HYDRA seems to be in charge, I figure it's easier to just say it instead of using 'them' or something."
"Your source came through in a big way," Natasha commented. She straightened from examining the profile.
"Gave me as much information as we could have hoped for."
"Location?" Clint asked.
Phil shook his head, "Unfortunately not that. He did help rule out a couple of areas in the city."
"How are we going to find them then?" Clint said.
"You're going to get to know the city really well," Phil replied with an apologetic smile.
Clint looked at Natasha, shrugging in response to her unasked question of when to start. He could see her debating if it mattered if they started tonight or tomorrow morning. She hesitated before shaking her head. He spoke to Phil, "We'll start in the morning I guess."
Phil nodded and looked expectantly at Clint, "I found the ingredients for stir fry."
"Is that your way of asking me to make dinner?" Clint quipped, moving to the kitchen.
"Clint, will you make dinner?" Phil said with a smile.
The trio tried to keep the conversation light over dinner, telling funny stories from various missions. They headed to bed soon after, tired from the change in time zones and the stress of getting into the country.
When Clint exited the bathroom, he found Natasha already in bed, curled into a ball with her back to him. He slid under the covers and hesitantly placed his hand on her hip. He half-expected her to pull away. When she relaxed a bit instead, he moved closer and wrapped himself around her.
Natasha twined her fingers with his hand, letting herself take comfort in his presence.
"I love you," Clint murmured against the back of her head.
Natasha squeezed his fingers, ignoring the tears that prickled in the corners of her eyes.
"We're going to do this," he promised as her breathing evened out and she relaxed against him. "I promise we'll get them all."
Clint found it difficult to sleep, his mind unable to turn off as he planned for how they were going to find Drakov and how he could help Natasha. He knew being back in Russia was taking a toll in a way it hadn't last time. When she sat up with a strangled scream, he touched her shoulder softly, bringing her back to reality.
"I burned down a shed full of Chechen rebels once," Natasha said as her breathing returned to normal. "I can still remember it so clearly, do you know why?"
Clint didn't know what to say.
She huffed a half-laugh, tears leaking from her eyes, "Because of the smell. Alina, the girl who was with me, said it was the smell of burning flesh. And I realized that I'd smelled it before, the day the hospital burned down with my parents inside."
"Oh Natasha," Clint sighed, pulling her against him as her body shook.
She pulled away slightly and looked at him, eyes bright with unshed tears. "Help me forget?"
Clint hesitated before nodding at her, "What did you have in mind?"
She wound her fingers through his hair and pulled his mouth down to meet hers.
Clint dragged her closer to him, pressing his entire body against hers before pulling her down to lay on top of him, assuming (correctly) that she needed the control.
Natasha's eyes darted around the streets of Grozny, she found herself wishing it was winter so she could wear a hat and cover herself with layers of clothes. Instead, she felt exposed, as though she was being watched. She'd convinced Clint and Phil that they ought to split up when searching the city because time was of the essence. She was beginning to question the wisdom of that decision.
She forced herself to relax, blending into the crowd and letting her training take over. The sooner they found Drakov, the sooner they could leave.
Russian words filtered into her ears, catching her attention for fleeting moments, little more than idle chitchat. Her thoughts shifted from English, to half Russian, to completely in Russian. She tried to fight the shift at first, before giving in and focusing on the mission. She could succeed in Russian or English.
While the neighborhood she was walking through was certainly not the best, it had a strong sense of community. Natasha felt as though she stood out in the area. People meandered down the street, doorways to buildings were left open, neighbors called to each other, and children played on the sidewalks together. Natasha doubted Drakov would be in the area, there was too great a chance for someone to notice his oddities and maybe start asking questions.
She turned into a side alley, headed towards the final part of her search area for the day. Her sense of unease increased now that she no longer had the protection of the crowd around her.
Natasha picked up her pace. She shivered in the shaded space, keeping her eyes focused on the upcoming corner. It was only two hundred feet after that turn until she was back on a main street.
A small noise had her whirling around to find the source.
The alley was empty behind her. Squinting in the shadows, Natasha couldn't shake the sense she was being watched.
She kept looking behind her for a few extra seconds as she took two steps forward, freezing when her senses alerted her to a presence. She turned her head slowly to face the figure.
A man stepped forward, his long hair hanging in greasy strands around his face. His metal arm glimmered in the gloom.
"Привет Наталья," he said. (Hello Natalia.)
Natasha sucked in a harsh breath as his words washed over her. She withdrew one of her knives, holding it loosely in her hand, unsure if she could prevail against the man in front of her.
"Это было время, так как я видел тебя, Наталья," he said. (It's been a while since I saw you, Natalia.)
"I go by Natasha now," she replied in English, clinging to her identity as Natasha Romanoff, Agent of SHIELD.
The man chuckled, switching to English, "Yes, but you'll always be my little Natalia."
"What do you want James?" Natasha demanded.
He stepped closer.
Natasha tightened her grip on the knife.
"You and I both know that a little knife isn't going to be nearly enough to beat me," he hissed.
"What do you want?" she repeated.
James shrugged. He relaxed back onto his heels and surveyed the woman in front of him. "We heard you were in the city, so they decided to send a message."
Natasha pressed her lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of asking.
"Enjoy your time with the American," he smirked. "It will not last much longer."
Natasha swallowed hard.
"Вы вернетесь к нам и вы будете наказаны за непослушание," he continued, tone darkening as the Russian rolled off his tongue. (You will come back to us and you will be punished for your disobedience.)
"I will die before I return," she said vehemently.
James chuckled. "We'll be watching."
Natasha watched as he melted back into the shadows and disappeared from the alley. Once she was certain of her solitude, her control started to slip. Her breathing increased and tears pricked at her eyes. She bent over, hands resting on her knees. Get it under control. Get it under control, she chanted silently, forcing down the emotion choking her throat.
Clint surveyed the neighborhood he'd been assigned from a rooftop. It was the fifth location he'd watched from, his frown only deepening as the day went on. Finding Drakov seemed like an impossible task, especially since they had been reduced to actually walking the streets and hoping to get lucky. The longer he stayed in the area, the more convinced he was that Drakov wasn't there. It was too wealthy, buildings kept in decent condition, no sign of violence, and far too close to the futuristic architecture of the downtown areas. From his perch, Clint had a perfect view of the skyline and large mosque. He had to admit the city was gorgeous.
With a sigh, he turned away from the view and to the fire escape. He'd check the streets once more before heading to his final vantage point. Then it was time to head back to the safe house and perhaps reassess their search method. He hadn't heard from either Phil or Natasha. He chose to take the silence as good news, after all, if they'd completely struck out in trying to find him they'd have told him already. It worked the other way too though, if they'd found Drakov he'd know.
The people bustling about the streets seemed to be headed home for the evening. Many carried packages of food from them, a steady stream entering and exiting the butcher shop at the end of the street.
Clint kept his eyes moving, scanning the faces of the people around him and examining the shops. He hoped to find anything that would point to Drakov's location.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to look at the message. Phil had finally responded to his text from an hour before complaining of the boredom.
"Play eye spy," it read.
Clint rolled his eyes and shoved his phone back. He'd hoped to at least start a conversation with the man to keep the day interesting.
The last place turned out to be just as much a waste of time as all of the places before. Clint turned away and pulled out his phone, sending a message to Phil and Natasha informing them that he'd finished his area and was headed back to the safe house. It was earlier than he'd expected to finish so he assumed he'd be the first back.
Phil responded almost immediately, telling him he had two more areas to look at.
As Clint neared the safe house, he felt himself starting to worry. Natasha hadn't texted him back or even acknowledged the message. He knew she could take care of herself, but based on the way she'd been acting since they got to the city, he wasn't so sure about her mental state. The last thing he wanted was for her to lose herself or worse get taken back by the Red Room.
He picked up his pace, mentally cursing at himself. He should have never agreed to splitting up.
Natasha fought the tremble threatening to overtake her limbs as she hurried through the streets. All she wanted was to get away from the Winter Soldier and back to Clint. It was only after she had locked the safe house door behind her that she realized she hadn't checked for a tail.
The trembling won.
Natasha slid down the wall beside the door, eyes focused on far away memories.
She was in a sparsely furnished room, surrounded by grey walls. The door slammed open, light from the hall silhouetting the man who stood there. She cringed backwards, trying to squeeze through the wall.
"Please," she mumbled, hoping to stop the punishment she knew was coming.
"Don't!" the man snapped. He moved into the room and closed the door. The light glinted off his metal arm for a moment before the shadows returned. He flexed the metal fingers. "I have my orders. Nothing you say can stop this."
Natasha felt a tear slide down her cheek.
"Come here," the Winter Soldier ordered. His eyes met Natasha's and seemed to beg for forgiveness.
She moved closer mechanically.
"This is your fault," he whispered. His metallic hand grabbed the front of her shirt, ripping it away from her body.
Natasha looked past the man in front of her. It was her fault. If she hadn't failed, neither of them would be there.
Clint fumbled with the keys in his haste to open the door to the safe house. He couldn't pinpoint the exact reason for his hurry, he only had a gut feeling that he needed to find Natasha as soon as possible. She'd contacted him and Phil an hour or so earlier about checking out one more location before heading back. There was no reason to assume she hadn't made it back, yet Clint felt like something was wrong.
Pushing the door open only heightened his worry—the house was dark. It wasn't like Nat to sit in the dark, so maybe she hadn't made it back yet. Clint tried to convince himself it was possible he'd gotten back first.
"Nat?" he called hopefully. "You here?"
Silence responded.
Clint walked into the house and flipped on the lights, a frown settling across his face. He decided to check the bedroom before he called over the radio, maybe she'd gone to take a nap. The room was as dark as the rest of the house. He stepped in and shook his head at the empty bed, dropping his stuff onto it as he turned on his radio to call Phil and Natasha. A sharp breath from the corner had him freezing and flipping the light switch.
Natasha sat huddled in the corner.
"Hey, Tasha," he said, moving slowly to crouch down beside her.
She didn't respond.
"Are you okay?" Clint surveyed her for any injuries, trying to answer his own question.
He set his hand on her shoulder when she didn't even look at him.
Natasha's head snapped around to focus her piercing green eyes on him.
Clint watched as recognition flitted across her face.
"I'm fine," she said, standing up and heading to the bathroom.
"Bullshit."
Natasha froze.
"I come back to find you catatonic in a dark house and you think I'm going to believe for even a second that you're fine?" Clint demanded. "What happened?"
She hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I'm fine. I just ran into someone from my past. It shook me up but I'm okay now."
"From your past? You mean the Red Room?"
Natasha bit her lip and nodded once.
Clint shook his head, "Okay, we're getting out of here. I'll call SHIELD."
"No!" Natasha blurted.
"What do you mean 'no'? You've been made, it isn't safe to stay, someone else can finish the mission"
She shook her head as he spoke. "He delivered a message, they don't care if we bring down the ring. This was just a reminder that someday, they will come after me. We knew the risks when we asked to be on this mission, this is just one of them."
"But—"
"No," she snapped. "This isn't your choice. It's mine. They won't act anytime soon and we have to do this. We owe it to Ives and Faulk and ourselves."
"I know," Clint eventually said. "I'm just afraid I'm going to lose you."
Natasha reached out to grab his hand.
"I can't lose you, Tasha."
"I'm not going anywhere," Natasha said, throat tight, knowing that neither of them could really keep that promise.
"Who was it?" Clint asked after a moment. "We should have SHIELD see if they can find him and keep us aware of his movements."
Natasha paused, "I doubt that SHIELD would be able to help. It was the Winter Soldier."
Clint took a sharp breath, surprised.
"Hawkeye, Widow," Phil's voice crackled through their earpieces. "I've got them."
Clint watched Natasha carefully as she nodded.
"Where?" she asked.
"In the Oktyabrsky district," Phil replied. "Did the two of you want to meet me over here to start surveillance?"
"Widow ran into the Winter Soldier," Clint said before Natasha could agree. "We're at the safe house. We ought to reexamine our strategy before we do anything."
"Is she okay?" Phil asked.
Natasha shot her partner a dirty look before speaking. "I'm fine."
"I'm on my way back, we'll talk when I get there," Phil replied.
Phil's return to the safe house had been followed by an hour of arguing over whether or not they should stay and finish the mission. Natasha was the only one adamant about staying. Clint kept pushing for them to leave while Phil was eventually persuaded to Natasha's side. There were stipulations for his agreement though. SHIELD had to be notified about the presence of the Winter Soldier and if anything else happened they were out.
Natasha had agreed reluctantly.
They'd spent another two hours planning how to run surveillance on the building Phil had discovered before turning in for the night.
The next day the trio went to work. Phil started looking into the city's archives in hope of finding blueprints for the building. From what they could see of the building, it looked to be a mix of pre and post-war architecture, which meant they had no idea what the interior would be like.
Oktyabrsky District, Grozny, Russia—2009
Natasha started the surveillance, picking a café a block away to order a cup of tea. She remained there for a couple of hours, sipping on her tea and reading. A steady stream of people moved up and down the street in front of her with the occasional person entering the building. The longer she watched the more convinced she was that the ring was only using part of the building. A family left and came back, arms filled with bags from the market. A young man brought a dog out to use the bathroom before disappearing inside again.
And every so often, middle aged men would enter or leave alone, throwing furtive looks over their shoulders. There was no sign of Drakov going in or out of the building.
When Clint texted her midafternoon, she paid her bill and left the café. He would take over for a few hours and see if he could catch sight of Drakov from his vantage point.
Natasha settled back in to the safe house to write her report. Anxiety pooled in her chest as she recalled her observations. She couldn't figure out what was making her nervous but something was off. Too much was left to chance by using a building that had citizens living in it. Why would the ring risk it?
And when working with such volatile chemicals, wouldn't they want to keep things far away from the general population? Less chance of being caught.
Clint lay on his stomach, peering through the scope he'd propped on the edge of the roof. From his vantage point, he could see into the fourth floor apartment the ring had converted into a manufacturing room. They were confident, leaving the window completely uncovered. He watched as two men moved around the room, passing by the window at various points.
One wore a suit and seemed to be following the man in the lab coat. The lab coat belonged to Anton Drakov. The man's attention made Drakov nervous: he was sweating, stuttering, and constantly looking around. At the door, stood a third man, holding an assault rifle and looking bored.
From what Clint could see, the man in the suit wanted to know Drakov's progress on producing the drug. His lip reading skills couldn't keep up with the rapid Russian conversation but he caught a few words including "São Paolo." A smirk spread across his face at those words, proud that the events in Brazil had caused the ring problems.
After an hour of observation, the man in the suit left. The guard remained. Drakov's shoulders hunched as he bent over a table and began to measure out different liquids.
Something bothered Clint about the scene. He couldn't put his finger on what was off, he just felt that something was.
A couple of hours later and nothing had changed other that what Drakov was measuring. He'd switched to some sort of powder, adding it to the carefully prepared dishes of liquid.
"Sit rep," Phil demanded over the comms.
Clint turned his scope to the guard for a moment. "Drakov had a visitor a couple of hours ago. Nice guy in a suit who certainly made Drakov nervous. He's been hard at work ever since. They've got a guard with him armed with an assault rifle."
"Just one?" Natasha said. "Shouldn't be too much of a problem."
The guard moved from his position and said something to the scientist. Drakov looked up, eyes slightly glazed. He nodded and covered the dishes before taking his coat off. He followed the guard out of the room.
"They've left the room," Clint reported. "I think they're leaving the building for the night. Do you want me to follow or investigate the apartment?"
"Follow Drakov," Phil instructed. "See if you can find where he's living. With any luck, they'll leave him unguarded at night and we can go after him there."
"Copy, I'll call when they stop."
Clint moved to a crouch, stowing his equipment away. He watched as they exited the building and began walking down the street.
It didn't take long for Drakov to get home. Clint tailed the men for twenty minutes before they stopped. The guard had left his rifle somewhere in the apartment, Clint realized. The men stopped outside of a nicer apartment building and spoke for a moment before parting.
Drakov walked inside while the guard nodded to a man loitering next to the front door.
Clint frowned, so they traded off guard duty at the building. He'd have to figure out where exactly Drakov was living inside.
He called up Phil and Natasha to tell them the address before deciding to head back to the safe house. They could start strategizing over dinner. Drakov wasn't going anywhere on them overnight.
The manti Natasha had found was delicious, maybe even making it into the top ten for Clint's favorite foods. Clint ate several, barely taking the time to breath as he enjoyed the food. He picked up another and froze with it halfway to his mouth.
Phil and Natasha both turned to look at him, raising their eyebrows in almost identical expressions of surprise.
"Why was the guard inside the room?" Clint muttered.
"What?" Phil said.
Clint set the manti down and looked at the two agents sitting with him. "The guard. Why was he inside the room?"
The other two remained silent, thrown by the sudden question and lack of context.
"It's weird, right?" Clint continued. "Why would you post a guard inside the room? Wouldn't it make more sense to put one outside? You'd be able to better monitor access to the room."
"You're talking about the guard with Drakov?" Natasha asked.
Clint nodded. "Something was bothering me about the set up and now I realized what it was. You don't put a guard inside the room if you're trying to keep people out…"
"You do it to keep someone in," Natasha finished when he trailed off. "You'd do it to watch whatever was in the room."
"Or whoever," Clint added.
The trio sat in silence for a minute before Clint spoke again. "I don't think Drakov is a willing participant in this."
AN: Thank you for reading! Please drop me a review, and the next chapter should be posted tomorrow.
Preview of Next Chapter: "Coulson," Natasha tried, wondering if there was something wrong with the link.
Still no answer.
"Coulson, can you hear us?"
For those of you who care about my long absence from this story, here it is: As you may remember, the last time I updated was right before Age of Ultron came out. It killed me. I hated Natasha's plot so much and found myself with some severe writer's block. On top of that, I was headed into the last couple weeks of college. I hadn't expected finals and everything to be so terrible, but between the stress from school and my lack of motivation, I stopped writing. A week after I graduated, I moved to Florida to start working at Disney World where I didn't start writing again. Long story short, Disney sucked out my soul and didn't give it back. I left spring of this year and moved home to work and save some money for grad school.
Seeing Captain America: Civil War got me excited again but I still had writer's block like nobody's business. Also, in the last year and a half, I have started to become a BuckyNat shipper (don't worry, this story is still pure Clintasha). I did manage to write a good portion of the end of this story over the summer (in very little bits and pieces). Most recently, I moved to Scotland for school and have finally started writing again. I don't have a good reason for not updating and I feel really bad.