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Chapter 6: The Domino Effect
Clint's mission was mission was simple enough recon and assassination of some drug trafficker dabbing into terrorism business in a remote Pacific island. At least the scenery will be lovely, but he hardly focused on the mission. Clint was back at home opening the door to his farmhouse calling out his wife's name.
A pretty brunette whose petite figure showcases her long wavy hair appears. She's stares up at the archer, clutching his forearms sighing a greeting as she melts her lips into his. Clint kisses her back appreciatively.
"How long are you here for?" Laura asks when they break for air.
"Maybe five days, I have a mission a week from now."
"So, maybe six and half days?" she asks with a husky undertone to her voice.
Clint retreats to their kitchen with Laura on his heels. "Would love to babe, but Natasha is leaving for a mission the day before me, I'd feel wrong not bothering to see her beforehand."
Laura wraps her arms around his waist and leans her head against his chest, "I get it, I do. You guys are partners you supposed to trust each other. I'll cut you some slack, since you can't tell her where you sneak off to weeks at time."
Clint grips tightly to her waist, "Actually, I was thinking, maybe it would be easier to tell. I mean she's my partner she'll find out someday," Laura pushes herself off his chest and looks at him, "Coulson, Fury, and probably Hill know. Natasha is quieter than all of them, combined."
Still within his arms she responds, "Are we negating the fact that not too long ago she was a Russian spy that did pretty vile crimes, according to you?"
Clint retreats from her body, backing away almost offended, "She's been at SHIELD for a year, and she didn't do those things willingly. She forced, abused, and manipulated."
Laura can feel his anger radiating off of him. "I know, I know," she soothes, "but isn't this whole arrangement meant to keep this safe," she says gesturing to the house around her. "And me," she whispers.
He breathes and calms himself, "I wouldn't have mentioned it if I didn't think she'd be a good proponent in protecting what we've built here," he sighs, "but if you aren't ready, we'll wait." She nods approval and they leave it at that, never mentioning it for the remainder of his visit.
Natasha woke to the sound of her own hisses of pain. Groggily, she finds the source to be the restraints on her wrist that had been secured too tightly. Bruises were adorning her bare skin, now bright red. So, long sleeves today.
She heads to the cafeteria by herself, for the first time. Usually, Clint swings by her dorm to retrieve her but Clint was hadn't returned from wherever he ran off to. She was left feeling the slightest bit vulnerable eating alone. In all honesty, she knew what kind of life line Clint was providing her with. He was her strongest connection to normalcy.
It was this reliance that made her nervous. That curt warning from Coulson made her wonder about her dependency on the archer and what that could lead to. Certainly not something so terribly awful, but something she didn't need right now.
There were too many eyes on her when she entered the cafeteria. Something felt off. Senior agents all focused their attention to her as she moved through the room. The table where she and Clint sat every morning was hosting three stone faced senior agents. Natasha realized she hadn't ever sought contact from any other agent besides Clint, Coulson, or occasionally, Fury. She didn't know most of her coworkers apart from their names.
She gathers her food and attempts to avoid standing hesitantly in the middle of the floor. Her tension increases when the three agents sitting at her and Clint's table calls her over. Natasha stiffens, debating whether to ignore the intruders. "That's not how you make friends," she tells herself. She confidently struts over, wondering how to introduce herself. Stern and coolly? Playfully?
As she approaches the table the first man, a muscular and long haired male with features that could only be described as the 'villain of a movie' type, talks first, "Barton's project, right?"
She quirks an eyebrow, their arrogance is particularly radiating off them. "Agent Romanoff, actually."
The next man, a pale and slender agent that doesn't appear to have the build to be a field agent, perks up, "So agent, how do enjoy SHIELD? Must be different from Serbia or Iceland-"
"Russia, actually" she states coolly while collecting her tray then spinning on her heel and swaying away.
Her determination wavered slightly as he three men behind her loudly picked up their discussion of her. "You know Barton's training her strictly. Poor, little Russian assassin with a few skills, all she had to do was bend over in front of him to prove her loyalties."
The table erupts with laughter and another man continues, "Well she hasn't blown this place up yet so I guess 'training' is going well. Probably has to be submissive, Barton could make her do whatever he felt like it."
Natasha takes a breath and pauses in her strides. Sexual promiscuity had always been more of a concern to her, than some preferred. Even when it was constantly stripped down, to her, as a decisive definition of nothing more than physical control, she felt that empty space when completing an assignment. Intimacy, she could never falsify that sex needed intimacy to feel accomplished. Natasha held sex as sacred, it certainly wasn't a learned trait. After all, her childhood memories consisted on the cold, technical facts on how to use one's body to achieve an agenda. Perhaps, it's a natural trait, one that simply is ingrained that sex needs intimacy, there definitely was no other place she'd learn the true meaning of it.
She retraces her steps, now prowling at men like a woman on a mission. Her targets underestimate her level of sanity and opt to smirking arrogantly at the redhead. She drops her tray at the previous space it had been. She smiles brightly at her three man audience. "Do you want to know what I can do with this body?" Natasha drops her voice to a captivating seductive tone. She leaves no chance for the fellow's faces to morph into horrified expressions. The tall round table is quickly flipped over her shoulder and a roundhouse kick is placed on the temple of the man on her right. Her hands hook around the neck of the man to her left while her thighs are securing themselves around the man in the center. They're choked out, flipped over, and unconscious in a matter of moments. Natasha has already landed in a gracefully squat by the time people around her began to react. A hush falls everyone, followed by confused murmur by those who didn't witness the two second knockout. All focus fixates on the still untrusted former enemy assassin.
Laura settled on the front porch with two trays of sweet tea. Her bare feet planted on the steps as she squints to make out her husband's figure approaching the house. Sweating and heaving a load of firewood no one would assume that Clint was anything more than a well-built farmer.
He unloads the wood in a neat stack on the porch. "That should last you for a while." He sinks down next to her taking a glass for himself. Laura stares at him, forehead creased. He looks forward as he takes a slow sip. He coughs as he swallows and glances accusingly at the fluid.
Laura sighs, "It's made with decaffeinated tea. I'm trying to trick my body into thinking it's decent."
Clint raises an eyebrow and pushes away the glass like poison. "Why on earth are you trying to torture yourself?"
She doesn't maintain eye contact. Looking forward she pressed a hand to her stomach, "The baby doesn't like caffeine."
Five seconds go by. Laura doesn't look at him and Clint does, starring at her side profile. Laura chips in, "Three and a half weeks. Everything is going well, I found out last week after I realized I was late. Went to the Faller's over by Pine Creek Road, the husband is a doctor you know, he confirmed it and gave me the information to this clinic a couple towns over in Pink Meadowview. She's supposed to be the best obstetrician in the county."
"Laura-?" Clint whispers.
"So I gave her a call. Her name's Dr. Viviana Cordillera. She's sounded sweet. I made an appointment for tomorrow."
"Laura." Clint calls slightly louder.
"In the meantime though, she told what kind of foods I had to stop eating. I'm supposed to limit my caffeine but I know how much you like homemade sweet tea and I was at the market and I saw decaffeinated tea and I thought we could still drink it together when you come visit," Laura starts choking up, "But I hate it and you do to!" She burst into tear and leans on his shoulder ignoring his stench from his hard work.
Clint is stiff, confused, and completely lost in thought that he almost forgets to wrap an arm around her shoulders and respond. "So, you're pregnant." Was that the only thing he could think to say right then?
Laura lets out a watery chuckle and wipes her face. "Yes, I am."
He breathes deeply, "okay."
Laura raises her head, "okay?"
"Yeah, okay. Okay, we're going to be parents. Okay, I still love you. Okay, you still love me. Okay, there will a lot of problems. Okay, this wasn't planned. Okay, will figure this out. Okay, we're okay."
Her eyes stare at him in shock and she stammers out, "o-okay."
Her head goes on his shoulder and her eyes close, "okay".
After the long drive to the county's best, they sat in the empty waiting area of the establishment, hand in hand. Some daytime talk show is playing on the small TV in the corner that has captured Laura's attention. Clint tips his head back and studies the ceiling. The silence is broken when buzzing emits from his jeans.
"SHIELD phone," Laura murmurs without looking over." Clint groans a reply and answers the phone. Laura can't hear who exactly is on the line but they talk fast and didn't bother to say hello.
She watches her husband morph into stress-induced features. Suddenly he's on his feet. "She what!?" he practically shouts.
"Do you understand the severity of physically assaulting three coworkers is punishable by termination? They are all concussed, two of them of them have sprained necks! Natasha, when the Council here's of this they'll- I don't know what they'll do! Natasha what were you thinking?" Coulson slumped over his desk and breathed deeply he looked up at Natasha with a calm, disappointed demeanor, "and now we have to tell Barton."
Barton. That stings. The annoying, 'got-what-they-deserved' agents were actually right about one thing. She was his project, and everyone knew it. All the time and trust he'd put into her, crushed and demolished all because a few lewd comments.
She sat silently. She didn't mean to glare but it kept happening. Coulson sat silently with her for a few minutes until Hill and Fury broke through the calm. Natasha stiffened when Fury glared, suddenly the fantastical nightmare of being forced to escape and live on the run was becoming very real. Fury began with some technical spew of what could happen to her, none of which pleasant. His voice was level and gave no indication of his opinion of her or the matter.
When he finished Hill leans onto the desk, "Sir, if I may, we all saw the tapes we know what the "victims" said to Romanoff was intentional for a reaction. It justifies her actions."
Coulson retorts, "The agents will be reprimanded once they are released from medical. Their repercussions in no way have connections to Romanoff's."
"But maybe it does," Maria replies strongly, "You look at this as two separate scenarios one involving lewd comments and the other involving assault. But in actuality it was one incident that became a domino effect. Who pushed the first domino though? The person that deliberately provoked Romanoff. The consequence for provoking should cancel out some of consequences for the reaction."
"Fury?" Coulson throws his hands out, signifying his loss of an answer.
"Where's Clint? Let's see what Clint thinks."
"He's scheduled to be off base for another three to four days," Coulson Council chimes in.
"Call him, tell him he has three hours to make it back to base or we'll let the Council decide. Hill, you escort Romanoff to an interrogation room where she'll stay until Clint returns." Fury leaves quickly and Hill motions for Natasha to follow her. Coulson takes a deep breath in the now empty office and picks up his cell phone.
"So, you're leaving right after this?" Laura looks up at him from the cot in the doctor's office. Clint squeezes her hand and nods with a sympathetic sigh. "And you're leaving because of her?"
"Laura," he sighs, "please don't be like that. I'm sure whatever happened wasn't a big deal, I'll go soothe everyone and complete the mission. Then I'll be right back here with you."
Laura tries to smile then rolls her eyes. "And what if Natasha needs her partner again?"
"Then my wife will need me more. Babe, don't worry about things that aren't happening, I'll be here."
The doctor, a chubby blond woman with a relaxed look to her comes in. "Alright, Laura and Clint, everything looks to be great order. The checkup went well, your baby is developing and has met all benchmarks for their age. I've laid out more conducive lists on foods and activities I'd like you to eliminate as we discussed earlier." Dr. Cordillera drowned on but both Bartons had lost attention. Unspoken questions and worries swirled around as to how they were going to raise a baby with Clint's job prioritizing the majority of his time.
The load themselves into Laura's sedan and embarked homeward. No one spoke for a while, no one looked at each other. "Laura?" Clint finally worked himself to break the silence.
"'Hmm," she responded absentmindedly.
"Do you want me to leave SHIELD?" He kept his voice casual.
"What? Why?" She turns sharply to face him.
"To help you out, to raise our baby, to be here more. There are a thousand reasons."
"But you love your job and what about Natasha?" She accuses.
"Take out Natasha and everything else, do you want me to leave SHIELD?" Clint presses on.
"It doesn't matter, you'd never do it no matter what my answer was." She mumbles.
"Laura." Clint falls into frustration, "why won't you answer the question?"
"I don't want to talk about this right now," she huffs and turns back away from Clint. Clint clutches the wheel tighter. They remain silent until they reach the farmhouse.
"So I don't know when I'll see you again, right?" Laura leans against the doorway to their bedroom watching her husband pack a few personal items. Clint zips up the bag and leans over to kiss her forehead.
"It'll be soon, okay?" Laura nods looking at the floor. "Hey," he say lifting her chin, "We'll be okay. When I get back we can talk about building a nursery and maybe take a trip somewhere warm while you can still fly." Before she can respond he's tilting his forward to capture her lips. The kiss is long and full of emotion, when break Laura's cheeks have been dampened by her tears.
"Goodbye," She whispers and walks into their bedroom shutting the on his fleeting expression.
Walking into Headquarters a few hours later was relieving, as far as he could tell the Council hadn't publicly executed his partner, yet. All seems normal, in fact. He stops by his room to drop off his things whistling an old rock ballad as he moves. He takes his time checking into the interrogation room where Natasha is being held, stopping at the cafeteria to buy a bottle of water and some chips. He golfed the items down as he walked through the halls, his stomach still grumbled. This was going to be a long night. Clint finally makes it to the interrogation room where he was supposed to meet Natasha. Instead he finds everyone except her.
"Where's Natasha?" He asks the occupants of the room, only being, Fury, Coulson, Hill, and a couple of security agents.
Hill looks up with a slightly masked worried look, "We were hoping you would know."