As the sun rose over the peak of the mountain to the east, the light beamed into Clint's face. He woke up squinting after only a couple hours of interrupted sleep. Nightmares of him and Romanoff getting lost in the wilderness plagued him through the night. Dark circles under his eyes and a bruised forehead made Clint look the worse for wear.
Stretching his arms and yawning, he realized that Natasha had shifted to lay her head on his thigh. The duvet wrapped around her like a loving hug. Her hair flowed over the pillow like satin. She looked peaceful and delicate now, a strong contrast to how she was a whirlwind when she was awake. It was this quality that drew Clint to her in the first place.
To avoid stirring her, he wedged his pillow under her head as he wormed his way off the couch. He added more logs to the smoldering brick fireplace and felt his stomach rumble. Barton rummaged through the kitchen cabinets, looking for something to at least hold him over. He only found a box of instant rice and a salt and a pepper shaker. 'Great,' he thought, a grumpy look spread across his face.
Before stepping outside to check the perimeter, he turned to check on his partner. She was still fast asleep. Bow in hand, Barton stepped outside and took in his surroundings. The snow was beautiful and picturesque, laying in perfect mounds across the terrain, aside from some small animal tracks. Squirrels, perhaps. It wasn't every day that he could *marvel* at the wonders of nature uninterrupted like this.
As he circled the wrap-around patio, Clint watched for fletchings of his arrows poking through the powder. Off center between two of them, he noticed a persimmon tree, the higher branches riddled with fruit. The rays of sunshine reflected off the small icicles hanging from the branches. Enticing him, he aimed toward several fruits with expert precision. He managed to snag four in one shot, which landed like an upright, fruity shish kabob.
While fetching his breakfast, Natasha heard Clint's bow release. Hesitating for a moment, she listened for a scuffle to determine if there was a threat. Romanoff decided the coast must be clear after only hearing snow crunching under Clint's feet outside. "Ow," she groaned as she sat up to look out the windows. She observed his shish kabob through a lightly frosted pane as Clint plucked the fruit off one by one. Natasha's stomach grumbled at the sight, so she put Clint's vest on and her shoes, then went to join him. The door she exited through squeaked annoyingly loud as she limped out.
"Good morning sunshine," Barton said, knowing damn well Natasha was not feeling sunshiney. A warning glare was thrown at him as he munched, delighted to feel his pangs of hunger be satiated. Instinctively, he held a fruit out to her. She accepted it with a small smile.
"How are you feeling," Clint asked. He could see she was in pain, but there was something else behind her eyes. Worry, perhaps? Leaning on the rail that lined the patio, she stared out into the wilderness as she spoke.
"Like I got the hell beat out of me," she replied, biting into her persimmon. "We should get moving before the snow gets any thicker, Barton."
Clint came to stand next to her, and spoke soothingly, "Nat, I know there's something you're not telling me. If this is the whole 'I've done bad things' dilemma, I get it. But you know I'm not gonna judge you." He put his hand on her shoulder with a gentle squeeze. Their eyes met briefly as they both chewed. She responded, "I'll tell you on the way, okay?" Barton nodded and they watched a squirrel bounce into the persimmon tree. Enjoying each other's company, they watched the sun rise for a while longer, before Natasha finished her fruit and approached the door.
Following behind his partner, Clint noticed the vest that Romanoff had donned was his. She needed more than he did, Barton decided. "That looks good on you," Clint commented. Natasha smoothed it over her stomach and teased, "Yeah, I was trying to make a fashion statement." She winked at him as she loaded her gun for the day ahead of them. If all went to plan, she wouldn't need it.
They both readied to hike out into the snow once again. Luckily, the sky wasn't threatening any snowfall, with only small patches of thin fog cover floating here and there. They each grabbed a water bottle, warmed their hands by the fire for a few minutes, and freshened up in the bathroom. Natasha found a burgundy scarf on a shelf in the cabin's bedroom, and wrapped it around her neck.
Clint cleared his throat and began, "Alright, we have about a 3 hour hike down to the plateau on the other side of this mountain," he pointed behind him at the tallest of all the peaks, "so you just let me know if you need a breather and we'll stop."
Natasha gave him a playful dejected look, and chimed in, "I bet I could still beat you there, Barton." Clint scoffed at her and pretended to be offended. Before long, the agents ventured into the frigid landscape, chatting about their past missions, though Natasha was preoccupied. Clint was on about some time he had been tasked with staking out a Toys R Us when she came to a halt and leaned on a tree.
"I have a sister," Natasha blurted as Clint's green eyes stared back, "well... sort of. She was forced into the Red Room like I was. We lived together for 3 years with fake parents. Jackass from up the mountain wanted to know where she is." Clint was stunned into silence for a moment as he processed this. 'Natasha has a sister who is likely just as deadly and skilled as her,' he replayed in his head. "Clint, I haven't seen her since before we even met," she added, waiting for a reaction.
Clint drew in a deep breath and sighed, "So, you have a sister and you have no idea where she is. Then why did Henri think you knew?" Natasha shrugged and instantly regretted it, pain shooting through her shoulder blades. "I don't know," she groaned. Diligently, Romanoff recounted how she had wanted to protect Yelena as a child and what had happened the last time she had seen her sister. Clint listened intently and let his partner vent, careful not to pry.
They began walking again as Natasha finished hashing out her past. Carefully, Clint climbed over a steep section of boulders, and offered his partner his hand from the other side. "So what do we do about it? Do you want to try and find her," Barton questioned as Natasha grabbed onto him. Clint caught her as she wobbled down the face of the rock.
"If I find her, she might try to kill me," Natasha proposed, deadly serious. "Plus, I can't just burn bridges with SHIELD." She paused, breathing deeply, since she had accidentally twisted her waist too much. 'Pain only makes you stronger,' she thought, as she sat on the icy boulder.
Clint settled next to her and continued, "So it bothers you that they're looking for her?" Natasha dug down to find the source of her internal conflict.
"It bothers me that they have a reason to look for her. I was hoping that when we eliminated Dreykov, she would keep a low profile," Romanoff recognized. Bright red hair was stuck to the side of her cheek and Barton reached up to brush it away as he moved closer.
Clint lulled, "If she's anything like you, Nat, I know she'll be alright." His gentle touch was comforting to both as their eyes met. Romanoff leaned closer and rested her forehead on Barton's. Their hands clasped together loosely. An unspoken understanding filled them up, as they knew they would always care for each other. The surrounding world fell away from their notice.
"Stop making me feel better, dammit," Natasha whispered as a single tear fell. Appeasing her by rubbing his thumb over the backs of her hands, they sat up straight again.
"I can't," he admitted, "I care about you too much. After what I saw you endure in this god forsaken place. What you told me about the Red Room. You're the one person I can't put my guard up around. I couldn't take that shot, and I can't walk away from you now. Or ever." Deep emotion surged to the surface. They stood and hugged, Clint's heart beat loud in Natasha's ear as she listened.
"Let's get out of this fucking snow," Natasha laughed as she peeled away from Clint reluctantly. For the next hour, they trudged through the frosted forest. They made small talk about how much they missed the familiarity waiting for them at home. However, the two agents couldn't shake the cascading waterfall of inseparability they had just discovered.
Once the extraction point was in sight, they heard a helicopter whirring overhead. Natasha's ankle was becoming unbearably painful, as she relied on Clint to hold her steady from the side. When the helicopter touched down just 200 yards (182 meters) in front of them, Clint swung Natasha up into his arms bridal style and jogged to the landing zone.
Fury and two flight medics greeted them. Natasha was buckled onto a stretcher along the back of the passenger compartment, facing the front of the aircraft. Clint sat in the seat closest to her head as the medics went to work. Both agents were given blankets and Clint, a cup of coffee. Once everyone was settled, Clint put on his headset, where Fury began, "What the hell happened, Barton?" Natasha winced as the medics exposed her back to bandage it properly.
"They had us cornered as soon as we walked into the control room. Somebody tipped 'em off. They tortured Romanoff for information, but didn't get anywhere," he sighed, and drank his coffee down, resting his head back onto the metal when he finished.
"That's a hell of a lot of anger, Barton. What did they want to know," Fury questioned.
Clint shooed away the second medic and told him to focus on his partner. "They were asking about someone she knew in the Red Room," Clint divulged, omitting the part about Yelena. He knew Natasha well enough to know that she would do the same thing. Both sets of eyes were locked on Romanoff while the medics started an IV. Natasha laid her free arm under her head as they began administering pain medication. Clint gently clasped her hand as she visibly relaxed and closed her eyes.
"Alright, we'll write your report up later," Fury resigned, knowing Barton was far too preoccupied. Clint ate a couple protein bars and a sandwich as they flew back to headquarters, never taking his eyes off of Natasha, who had fallen asleep once the meds set it. It was a huge relief to see her so at ease for the first time in nearly two days.
Barton and Romanoff were both taken to the infirmary on arrival. A meeting was scheduled for Clint the next day to give a full report, but Natasha would be under medical supervision for a while. Clint made a mental note that as soon as this dreaded meeting was over, he would come right back to the infirmary. After all, how could he not? This journey was far from over.