A. N.: Hey, back from the dead! It's been a few years since I've really touched fanfiction, but I've been watching a lot of Marvel recently, so I really wanted to finish this story. Of course, I wait til right before the Black Widow movie comes out, so there will be all sorts of new canon to contradict whatever I've come up with, right? LOL. Anyway, because it's been so long, my writing style has definitely changed, and I'm not planning on revising earlier chapters any time soon. So, if anyone is actually bothering to follow this after so long, I apologize for any weird shifts in tone or style. Hopefully, it's all for the better.

Disclaimer: As always, I don't own any of this stuff. Honestly, most of this chapter just lifts dialogue straight from the first Avengers movie.


Compromised


S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier, 2012

Loki's velvet voice droned on, thick with confidence. Mind control had gone to his head, Natasha reflected. He'd forgotten that he didn't control everyone.

When Coulson had explained what had happened to Clint, it had taken every ounce of training and experience to keep her mask of brisk professionalism. She hadn't been able to stop her hands from shaking, though. He'd noticed, of course, but hadn't understood. Only Clint knew that story.

"We'll get him back, Natasha."

"I know."

She'd said it as a fact, her voice hard as concrete. Losing one man this way was cruel. Losing another was a sick joke played by a universe that had just gotten uncomfortably large, and Natasha was not going to be the punchline.

So, while the alien strutted about his fishbowl-cell as if it were a throne room, Natasha cut straight to the heart.

"I want to know what you've done to Agent Barton."

"I'd say I've expanded his mind."

The answer was evasive. She needed to know the process. She needed to know how to reverse it.

"And once you've won, once you're king of the mountain, what happens to his mind?"

"Is this love, Agent Romanoff?"

He was deflecting again, but he'd made a misstep. If he'd had complete access to Clint's mind, he'd have known better than to ask. So, she played his little game and trembled when he taunted her.

"Drakov's daughter…Sao Paolo…The hospital fire…Barton told me everything."

Except he hadn't. Loki stalked forward, pounding the glass with his fist and reveling in Natasha's whimpers. But, when she turned away, it was to hide the triumph in her eyes. Those crimes haunted her, yes, but Loki hadn't mentioned the one memory that had a real chance of breaking her. Clint hadn't told him about James, which meant that he still had some measure of control over his own mind. He was close to the surface, and Natasha could reach him. She just had to find him first. And, while she was at it, she'd finish her mission.

"You're a monster."

"Oh, no," Loki scoffed. "You brought the monster."

"So, Banner. That's your play."

She didn't say it to see the confirmation in his eyes; she didn't need to. She just wanted to see the look on his face as he felt control slipping away. The little shiver of vindictive pleasure running up her spine as she rushed to the lab wasn't enough, but it would have to do – at least until she found her partner.

When she did, she wasted no time with niceties; she couldn't get through to him if she let him kill her. She didn't quite catch him off guard, but she quickly wrestled his bow away. Without it, she'd already won. He wasn't a bad fighter, but he was primarily a sniper. Natasha was used to doing things the dirty way.

Clint grunted after his head hit the railing, looking up at her in dizzy disorientation.

"'Tasha?"

The Black Widow wavered. Could it really have been that easy? Hawkeye's clearing eyes held the promise of everything she'd ever hoped for, and she found herself too willing to believe it. Too vulnerable. So, she shoved him into unconsciousness with one last, savage blow. When she let herself hope, it would be in a controlled environment.

Her heart constricted when she watched Clint wake on the medical table, writhing and pulling against his restraints. But she didn't free him. She had to be sure.

"Clint, you're going to be alright."

"You know that? Is that what you know?"

His eyes were unfocused, and his voice was bitter, but he shook his head and continued in a more level tone.

"I got…I got to go in, though. I got to flush him out."

"You got to level out. It's going to take time."

It had taken her the better part of a year to sort through the jigsaw pieces of memory before she could even start putting them together. Of course, Clint hadn't been under nearly as long as she had. His hell might be a little shorter lived.

She kept her eyes on the pitcher as she poured water into a tin cup, avoiding the haunted look in his eyes. She'd seen it too many times already.

"You don't understand, I…Have you ever had someone take your brain and play? Pull you out…Stuff something else in?"

Clint paused, fixing her with his keen gaze and ending with a statement that was almost a plea, "You know what it's like to be unmade."

"You know that I do."

"Why am I back? How'd you get him out?"

"Cognitive recalibration," she said dryly, unfastening his restraints. "I hit you really hard in the head."

Whatever magic had kept Clint in Loki's thrall, it was gone now. The brief shock of minor head trauma had jostled things up enough for the archer to regain control of his own mind. The aftermath still wouldn't be pretty, but the mind control itself had been superficial. Natasha knew from harsh experience that what she'd been subjected to was different. If she ever found her Soldier again, he'd be much harder to reach.

"Thanks," Clint said, calling her back to the present, and she tried to focus on the man she had been able to save.

"Natasha…How many agents did I-"

"Don't. Don't do that to yourself, Clint. This is Loki. This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for."

"Loki? He get away?"

"Yeah. Don't suppose you know where?"

Focusing on the mission would be good for him – for both of them. It was terra firma in a shifting world.

"Didn't need to know," Barton said, shaking his head, "Didn't ask."

Natasha drifted to the doorway, giving her friend time to collect himself. His voice followed after her.

"He's going to make his play soon, though. Today."

"We got to stop him."

"Yeah? Who's we?"

"I don't know. Whoever's left."

"Well, if I put an arrow through Loki's eye socket, I'd sleep better, I suppose."

Natasha smiled at the mordant humor coloring Clint's voice. He was going to be okay.

Sitting next to him, she said, "Now you sound like you."

"But you don't. You're a spy, not a soldier. Now you want to wade into a war. Why? What did Loki do to you?"

Natasha didn't even know where to start. Clint's concern was comforting, but his assessment was loaded. He knew, for instance, that spy or not, she'd been trained by a soldier. And he had to know why she was so committed to destroying Loki.

"He didn't- I just…"

"Natasha…"

"I've been compromised. I got Red in my ledger. I'd like to wipe it out."

Loki had misinterpreted the expression, but Barton would understand. She wasn't naïve enough to believe in atonement for decades of mercenary slaughter. The red she wanted to erase wasn't her guilt, but the handprints left on her soul by the scientists and handlers who had stolen everything from her. And if Loki wanted to follow in their footsteps, she would wipe every trace of him from the face of the earth.

"Well, he may have trained you to be a one-woman army, but a little backup never hurt anyone," Clint said, forcing a ray of levity into his tone. "I'll have your back."

"Thank you."

She tried to center herself while Clint cleaned up, tried to push away memories of another sniper watching over her while she worked. And then Captain America walked in. The urge to vomit fought with hysterical laughter bubbling up in her throat, but Rogers had his game face on, and she followed suit. They had work to do, and she grounded her thoughts in her immediate, physical surroundings while she followed the Winter Soldier's lost friend into battle. The fighting made it easier. The brain's fight-or-flight responses prioritize the cognitive abilities it takes to stay alive, shunting everything else to the back burner. And Natasha was used to compartmentalizing.

"Just like Budapest all over again!" She shouted, shooting side by side with Hawkeye.

"You and I remember Budapest very differently," he quipped.

Okay, so the aliens were new. Everything else was old hat. She'd done it then, and she could do it now. She kept shooting, twisting, punching as the world shifted around her, littered with alien debris. The portal pulsed in the purple sky, while the Avengers converged then split, and she found herself alone with Captain America. She didn't bother hiding the wry smile that flashed across her face. It was gone in an instant, anyway, when another Chitauri grunt slammed into her.

She didn't worry when Steve disappeared, but she only just stopped herself from attacking when he rematerialized behind her.

"You know, Captain, none of this is going to mean a damn thing if we don't close that portal."

"Our biggest guns couldn't touch it."

That was the difference between her and a normal soldier, the reality that bound her to a man she couldn't find and who might not remember her even if she could. Where they'd been trained, guns weren't the weapons. They were.

"Well, maybe it's not about guns."

"You want to get up there, you're going to need a ride."

"I got a ride," she said, eyeing the space-bikes zooming overhead. And she knew exactly how to reach one, too.

"I could use a boost, though."

She knew exactly what his strength was capable of.


Belarus, 1960s

They'd been sent to steal tech from a secret warehouse, to bring the future back home. Anyone could have done it, Natalya had thought, until she'd realized how well guarded those secrets were. No one knew what the tech actually did, what they'd be walking into. Only the best could be trusted to adapt. That was how the Black Widow found herself ducking behind an overturned storage container with the Winter Soldier while bullets and weird pulses of white light flashed and ricocheted off the walls.

[I can't move my leg], he grunted. He'd been hit by one of the energy blasts, and his nerves were going haywire. He pulled out a grenade and tipped his head toward the security on the other side of the storage container.

[I got it down here, but you need to take the upper deck.]

Natalya craned her head up to glance at the second-story catwalk rimming the walls. The only way up was a staircase on the other side of the warehouse.

[Sure thing. I'll just learn how to run up walls.]

James rolled his eyes at her snark and said, [I'll give you a boost.]

[You've got to be kidding me.]

The distance was more than twice her height.

The storage container buckled with the screech of creaking metal as another flash of light left a white-hot indentation.

[We don't have time for this! Do you trust me or not?]

[I hope you know what you're doing!] Natalya yelled.

She braced herself and ran forward, placing her foot in the Soldier's cupped metal hand and jumping as he hurled her upward. Suddenly, the catwalk was beside her, and she grabbed the railing, swinging herself over it and wrapping her legs around a man's neck, which broke as she twisted and slammed him to the ground.


Another Chitauri chariot screamed by overhead.

"You sure about this?" Steve asked, brandishing his shield as a launchpad.

"Yeah," Natasha said faintly. "It's going to be fun."

She took a deep breath, glancing up to check her timing, then ran. Using a busted car as a stepping stone, she jumped onto the Captain's shield, and he tossed her, twisting, into the air. The Black Widow grabbed the back of the alien vehicle, pulling herself up and disposing of the passenger before it even realized she was there. She stabbed the driver, then, taking control of the wild ride through the burning city. And then the devil himself, complete with gaudy golden horns, started pursuing her. She needed her eye in the sky.

"Hawkeye!"

"Nat, what are you doing?"

"Uh, a little help?"

A breathless moment passed before the archer's cocky voice replied, "I got him."

The explosion was hot against her back, and she took the opportunity to leap onto Stark tower. While the Hulk dealt with Loki, she found Selvig. She was just about to close the portal when Stark came in hot with a nuke.

This is why I hate regimes, she thought sourly. But, Iron Man sent the bomb through the portal; the Chitauri collapsed like so many marionettes whose strings had been cut, evidently subject to some hive-mind effect; and Stark even survived the fall.

Natasha called it a win.

The days that followed were largely mechanical. Eating. Sleeping. Physical and mental evaluations. She lingered in a haze as Coulson's funeral wound to a close, and Clint put a warm hand on her shoulder.

"So. I hear we get a leave of absence."

"Yeah," she said, not bothering to force a smile.

"What are you going to do?"

"What do I always do?"

"I know. But, just…Hold off this time."

"Clint, he's out there somewhere-"

"I know. But, you need time. You're no help to anyone like this."

Natasha's shoulders straightened.

"I think I did okay saving the planet."

"You know what I meant."

Natasha sighed. The fight left her body, and she leaned against Clint.

"We'll find him, Nat. I promise. But for now, just come home. The kids miss you."

"Yeah," she said, and she didn't have to fake the small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

She had her own guest room on the Barton farm, secret panels under her bed revealing her Captain America library – and her private stash of alcohol. Clint didn't like vodka. Natasha took a swig straight from the bottle and sat heavily on her bed. Her nightstand was bare but for an extra pistol and a framed picture, in black and white, of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. A cropped and enhanced copy of a photo in a history book, it showed his head thrown back, his mouth open in laughter. The smile wasn't quite familiar – She'd never seen him that carefree – and the uniform was wrong, but it was close enough.

"I've got a team now. They're a bunch of children, sure, but they had my back out there…Who's watching yours?"

Natasha shook her head.

"I'm not giving up," she promised. "No matter how long it takes…Wherever you are, stay warm out there."

She took another swig of vodka before capping the bottle and returning it to her stash. Then, she left her room, closed the door behind her, and found her waiting family.