See Chapter One for Disclaimer
3_Then Comes a Scary Assassin
It took Laura a few months of dating before she finally got a REAL name out of her boyfriend.
Clint.
At first, Laura had thought THAT was a fake name too – really? CLINT? But then he got his feathers ruffled, and Laura realized the man was serious.
His name was Clint Barton.
He still stuck with the "Assassin" lie, and Laura let him because – well. His stories were fabulous.
Maybe an odd reason to let him keep his secrets, but Laura wasn't pushy. And he was constantly bragging about how brave she was for dating such a dangerous man.
The guy liked to curl up in a ball under a few dozen blankets every night, and he cooed instead of snore – yeah, he was real dangerous.
Laura didn't actually realize he was serious until her life had been put in danger.
No, she wasn't kidnapped, and no, she wasn't ransomed.
Her boyfriend's best friend and partner just decided to pay her a visit.
At 2 in the morning.
Sitting on her dresser.
A knife in one hand.
Laura had woken up immediately, the first weird thing to happen. Usually she woke up groggy and unable to form full sentances until her coffee kicked in.
But that night, she'd woken up instantly alert.
The other weird thing was that she'd woken up in the middle of the night.
For as long as she could remember she'd slept through the night, unconscious until her alarm clock forced her to open her eyes.
She could just make out her alarm, it's glowing numbers reading 2:17am.
She blinked, confused.
Why was she awake?
And then someone cleared their throat.
Laura's body seized up. She really, really didn't want to look.
But curiousity got the better of her, and she slowly rolled over.
She saw the figure right away, sitting with legs crossed on her dresser, but it took a few blinks for the figure to come into focus.
It was a woman, dressed all in black and wearing the shadows around her like accessories.
The woman didn't look up, too focused on the knife in her hands.
She turned the blade strategically, letting the glint of silver hit the moonlight coming in through the window just right, making the small rotation of her wrist seem ominous – like a threat.
"Hello?" Laura said slowly, sitting up.
The woman snorted and lifted her eyes. Laura froze at the eye contact.
"I don't see it," she finally said. Her voice was low, in deference to the mood she'd set, her words drawn out just so, and Laura shivered – not entirely because of the cold.
"See what?" Laura asked nervously.
The woman snorted. "Exactly." She leapt off the dresser suddenly and Laura jerked back.
"Be good," She warned.
Laura blinked – and the woman was gone.
Clint showed up that morning – through her window, as always, right when Laura was in the middle of packing.
He climbed in beaming and carrying a box of donuts – Laura's weakness – and his smile dropped as soon as he realized what was happening.
He opened his mouth – to say what, Laura wasn't sure and she didn't care, she pointed at him and shook her head furiously.
For after the woman left, Laura had evaluated her life decisions.
And Laura realized that the logo on the knife the woman had been holding matched the one that Clint wore on his uniform.
HE was the reason she'd been threatened – why, she wasn't sure, but Clint had some sort of affiliation with the woman from that morning and that woman was DANGEROUS, and suddenly Laura's mild-mannered boyfriend who could be clumsy and cooed in his sleep suddenly was dangerous as well, and Laura wanted to live.
"No!" She said suddenly, advancing on Clint so quickly that all he could do was step back in retreat. "Get out – get OUT,"
"Was it something I said?" He blurt out, and she was close enough to touch him, so she shoved him in the chest as hard as she could.
He stepped back – not from the force but because that's what she wanted, it seemed.
"Wait, Laura whats wrong?"
"You!" Laura burst out, pausing to stare at him wild-eyed. "You're an Assassin?"
Clint smirked. "Yeah – and? You already knew this."
The smirk sent Laura back into action and she shoved him again, and again.
"I didn't realize you were serious!" She said, panicked. "I can't – knives, and nighttime visitors and threats on my LIFE, NO, get OUT,"
"Laura – what?" Clint suddenly became concerned, his eyebrows furrowing. "Someone threatened you? Who threatened you?"
Laura jabbed the logo on his hoodie. "That woman – her knife had this on it! I won't – I want to live, Clint!"
"I'm glad," He said quickly, "I'd like to live too, preferably with y-"
"No!" Laura gave one last push and Clint tumbled out her window.
She slammed the window shut but still heard the loud screech of pain.
She didn't check on him. If she checked she would feel bad and she'd let him in and she'd let him explain and he'd look at her with those eyes of his and she'd live a life of danger and intrigue.
She didn't want danger – OR intrigue. She wanted a husband who cooed in his sleep and kids. She couldn't have both.
And she couldn't stay in her apartment any longer.
Leaving most of her possessions behind, she grabbed her duffel bag and her car keys and she was gone.
Months passed.
On that day, filled with fear, Laura had left New York and drove – finally landing in a small town with a hospital small enough that they'd gladly allowed her to finish her residency with them, a job guaranteed as soon as she'd finished training.
And Laura found, born and raised in the city, that there was something about the small country town.
She couldn't have the man she wanted, but she could have the town. She could have her job.
And so maybe she wasn't exactly HAPPY – but she was alive.
And then the woman found her again.
The next time she showed up though, she didn't come alone.
It was early in the morning, and different from the first visit, the woman was extremely loud, entering Laura's apartment, knocking something over, the loud crash jerking Laura out of sleep. She was out of bed and peeking behind around her door-frame.
It was the woman alright, but she was half-carrying, half-dragging a bulky body.
A body Laura recognized – and the sight of a half-conscious, obviously injured Clint got Laura to move.
She hurried to Clint's other side and helped the woman drag Clint towards her kitchen island, where it took both of them to hoist Clint up, and then Laura was patting him down, looking for injuries, while the woman turned on all the lights and went in search of rags and a bowl for water.
Laura grimaced at the sight of the wound – long and jagged and running down one side of Clint's chest. Laura can just make out glints of glass still embedded in the wound and her heart clenched.
"I need Alcohol," She snapped out, forgetting the woman in her kitchen is a terrifying assassin and not the assistant Laura is currently ordering her about like. "There's a case under my bathroom sink with Clint's name on it. I need that too." Laura grabbed a knife from a drawer and began slicing through Clint's shirt: it had to go, and by the time his chest was bared, the woman had returned, the case in hand. Laura wrenched it open grabbed the rubbing alcohol, flinging off the cap and drenching the wound with it.
Clint shouted at the sting and Laura answered him unconsciously with a humming noise, and Clint immediately calmed.
She set down the now empty bottle and a pair of tweezers were being thrust into her hand.
Laura froze – finally remembering that Clint hadn't appeared alone. Her gaze was caught by deep blue eyes, and Laura was afraid to blink, but the woman just nodded meaningfully. "He's got broken rib and his shoulders out of socket."
"Don't assassins have any medical training for the field?" Laura asked, and she shrugged.
"Broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder I can handle. Tweezers and glass - I can do. It's the punctured lung that's got me worried."
Laura gasped and returned her attention to Clint, moving furiously.
She had to re-inflate his lung immediately, and distracted by her worry and her work, Laura forgot about the woman altogether.
It wasn't until hours later, when Clint was resting peacefully, lung reinflated and chest stitched together, shoulder back in place and fingers wrapped tightly around Laura's hand, that she remembers.
The woman stood on the other side of the island, arms crossed and looking grudgingly impressed.
"Are you here to kill me?" Laura asked hesitantly, and the woman smiled grudgingly.
"No." She tilted her head. "Usually I answer that question differently," she mused, and Laura shuddered. "I'm here to apologize," she added quietly and Laura's eyebrows furrowed.
"What?"
The woman huffed. "That guy over there is an idiot – but he saved my life, many times, actually. I'm very protective of him, and when he told me about you, I assumed the worst."
"What – that I'd send my friends to threaten him in the dead of night with a knife?" Laura said dryly, and the woman standing across from her did something Laura hadn't expected.
She laughed.
"He didn't send me," she reassured. "He didn't even know I'd gone until after – and he wasn't happy."
She tilted her head. "He really likes you," she admitted grudgingly, and despite how surreal the moment felt, Laura flushed.
"Well," she sputtered in surprise, "I really like him too. But I wanna live."
"And in our line of work that's no guarantee," The woman spoke frankly. "Clint doesn't come with the cookie cutter life – not the house, not the kids, not the dog. He comes with lonely nights and danger, and a lot of secrets."
"He also comes with stupid jokes, a great smile, and a good heart." Laura added stubbornly. "I can deal with all the rest – as long as I get that stuff too."
"Can you?" The woman asked frankly, and Laura paused.
There was a pang in her heart at the thought of no kids, the wedding she'd imagined since she was a child disappearing before her eyes. The dog was never a must – have, but it had been a want, and Laura grimaced at the thought of no dog.
Then she thought about a life with all of that – the house the dog, the kids – but no Clint.
And she shuddered.
"Yes," She said matter of factly. "But only if you promise not to break into my home and threaten my life anymore."
"I don't know if I can do that," The woman said, but Laura could hear the amusement, and she smiled.
A loud groan broke the chummy moment and both women rushed over to Clint, who was flinging his arms about worriedly.
"Clint!" The woman ordered. "Stop – you're safe, look who's here."
"Keep moving and you'll wreck my stitches," Laura said sternly. "Stay still."
Clint's eyes snapped open at Laura's voice, and he obeyed without hesitation. A smile grew on his face.
"When did you get here?" He asked, and Laura rolled her eyes.
"I live here. What was it this time? Mob boss?"
"Mob Bosses daughter. Had a mean knife swing."
Laura, despite herself, smiled, and she let her hand reach out to clasp Clint's. He returned the grip tightly, eyes turning warily to the woman on his other side.
"Why?" Clint said slowly, and the woman shrugged.
"We needed a doctor," She started, and then she tilted her head. "And you're always talking about how great this one is. I wanted to see for myself."
There was a lot that the woman seemed to say, within that brief explanation, and Clint looked at her through narrowed eyes before the corner of his mouth quirked up.
"You're impressed," He concluded, and the woman shrugged.
"I can see why you like her," she relented.
"And you apologized?" Clint pressed. The woman huffed.
"I was getting to it," She grumbled, and Laura squeezed Clint's hand. He focused on her face, and she smiled.
"I've forgiven her," she said. "And she's promised not to do it again." This was said with a pointed look at the woman, who made a face, but then nodded, expression serious. Laura shrugged and returned her gaze to Clint.
"Besides," she added lightly. "Knowing that there's someone who cares so much watching your back in the field makes me feel better."
"So you're not going to throw me out any more windows?" Clint asked hopefully, and Laura laughed.
"Only when you deserve it," she relented.
"And you'll be with me again?" He added, and she nodded.
"And you'll marry me?" Clint pressed his luck, and Laura laughed.
"When you ask me properly," She answered promptly, and even as Clint opened his mouth she held up a finger – "When you are fully healed up and your friend knows me well enough to like me better and be my maid of honor over being your best man," she finished, and Clint pouted.
"I already like you better," The woman said, and Laura locked eyes with the woman she'd never seen with the lights on.
Feeling determined, she reached out for her kitchen lights and flicked them on and the face of the woman – pale skin, defined cheekbones, rich red hair and deep green eyes, appeared.
Laura smiled and held out her hand.
"Laura," She said with a smile. The woman's mouth quirked up on one side, and she reached out to grasp Laura's hand.
"Natasha," She introduced herself, finally.
"You can call me Nat."
NAT.
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~CLC~