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Back straight. Toes pointed. Deep breath.

Natasha lifted her back leg to a 45 degree angle and carefully held it for a second, relishing in the pull of her muscles. A front walkout took her to the very end of the beam. Breathing deeply, eyes closed and relaxed. She jumped back and did a half twist into a front handspring; a perfect onodi. A back walkout returned her to the end of the beam.

Running to the end of the beam, one foot in front of the other she punched off, did a double flip and stuck the landing.

She loved this; feeling each muscle coil and spring, being in complete control of her body. They kept a tight hold on her, keeping her busy from breakfast to bed and carefully watching her every move. But the early morning hours were her time to do as she pleased.

Little miss attitude was trying not to glare like a jealous little child. Her name was Gomez or Garcia, something like that. Natasha hadn't cared enough to remember everyone's name.

Babysitting Natasha had quickly become a punishment. Especially when it became painfully clear that none of them would stand a chance in hand to hand combat with Natasha. Little miss was a great fighter, but she also liked to sass her superior trainers.

Pulling on some lose sweat pants, she lead her miserable guard out of the gym toward the mess hall for a quiet breakfast. Clint had been the only one who spoke to her unnecessarily, but he'd been shipped out by the end of their first day here. She wasn't sure if she liked the peace and quiet or not.

Her first full day here was spent in medical, being poked and prodded by doctors. They took blood samples, hair samples, and God knows what else. At least these doctors asked politely before jabbing a needle into her arm and didn't attempt to drug her.

Clint hung around as much as the doctor would allow, trying to make conversation, cracking jokes, and flirting with the nurses. He was annoying, but at least he helped keep things interesting. He was also the only one not watching her every move suspiciously or asking probing personal questions.

Parke and Coulson had been less than happy with the intelligence she was able to provide about the Red Room. They didn't like to keep their agent in the loop as much as SHIELD did. More often than not, she didn't know the reasons behind and assassination she was assigned to carry out.

The disk she had given Liev would have gone a long way toward smoothing things over, but it had been lost when she tried to protect him. She had barely managed to procure it without anyone noticing and had never bothered to memorize it. She had expected to be dead and Liev to be the one in SHIELD custody.

They began her with the most basic drills; target practice, obstacle courses, sparing, etc. Child's play really. Red Room training was a lot less forgiving.

The last few days she found herself sparing with the old man who taught the advanced hand to hand combat classes. Apparently she had managed to scare off all the agents-in-training and their trainers. Honestly it really wasn't her fault that one of them tried to pull some bullshit move and wound up with his arm broken in two places.

Today he was running her through some acrobatics. The more impressive moves which she actually had the training and flexibility to pull off, unlike some people.

"I want you to try that thigh hold move you used the other day against Gambos." He spread his feet, getting better footing as he prepared for his attract. It wouldn't help him.

She nodded, and moved in for the attack, launching herself into the air. She'd done the move a thousand times, every time her opponent found themselves on the ground and she'd never met anyone who could counter it.

He moved to avoid it, but he telegraphed his intent and she had already corrected for it. Her legs wrapped easily around his neck, but before she could bring him down the bastard sat down. Just plopped down onto the ground, taking away all of her leverage.

He easily took advantage of her momentary surprise and had her flat on her back and pinned. She quickly turned the tables, knocking him in the stomach with her elbow and flipping him flat onto his back in no time.

He stood up, rubbing the back of his gut and laughing, "good recovery, now let's figure out how you could have done that better."

He had been carefully watching her all week, taking note of the moves she liked to use. He challenged her to find other ways to get the same results and to avoid falling into the same predictable patterns. For the first time in a long while, she was actually learning. It was actually quite fun.

She liked this trainer, he reminded her of someone she knew a long time ago. Someone who took the time to teach her, challenged her to think for herself, and mentored her.

Ten days was all it took.

The defected Russian easily conquered every field test there was for trainees short if the weeklong wilderness survival simulation, Parke wasn't comfortable with setting her loose off base for a week by herself. The instructors were forced to get creative when they ran out of things to throw at her, it almost edged on persecution.

But Natasha took on each challenge without complaint. In fact, she seemed to be the only one not to utter a complaint. Wild rumors spread around the base about her. One of the more ridiculous ones said she was infected with nanites that spread to anyone she touched. In a week the entire base seemed to be reduced to a high school.

It was embarrassing really. Grown, professional, men and women reverted to petty teenagers.

Parke, thankfully, was able to keep a lid on the worst of it. He wasn't terribly happy about her presence on base, but he was both stern and fair, he wouldn't punish Natasha unless she actually did something to warrant it.

Coulson was rather impressed with the amount of control she had displayed. Perhaps she got enough satisfaction from knocking them on their asses during sparing matches.

He observed her closely as she ran through drills with Weiss, the senior trainer. Ex-special forces turned grumpy old man, Weiss seemed to be the only person unfazed by Natasha's past as a deadly assassin for the other side, Coulson included. No one wanted to spar with her anymore, and most of the trainers were even avoiding having to work with her. Not Weiss. Over the last few days he taken it upon himself to keep her busy and assess her abilities.

He also seemed to be the only one able to give the girl any criticism. He managed to find something wrong with everything she did.

The entire base had been on edge since Barton brought her in.

"Alright, what'd she do? Bite somebody?"

Speak of the devil.

The arrogant bastard came up beside him to lean leisurely against the railing of the observation balcony.

"Barton, welcome back. How was Dubai?"

Clint scrunched up his nose. "Miserably hot and dusty. And you know how much I love babysitting a corrupt politician while he takes his favorite call girl shopping. Do you have any idea how much it sucks to be caught outside during a sandstorm? I got sand in all up in my-"

Coulson smacked him in the back of the head.

"ow! Jeez! You asked! Why ask if you don't actually want to know?"

"Too much information Barton!"

"No such thing in the intelligence business." Clint added, earning him another smack. "ow! There's gotta be a rule against abusing your agents. I'm gonna file a complaint. "

"Let me know how that works out for you."

Clint grumbled under his breath, something about the brass having it out for him. Coulson rolled his eyes.

Clint let out a puff of air. "So why am I here? Not that I'm complaining-because Dubai sucked- but as far as I can tell she's handling herself beautifully and hasn't caused any trouble."

"Not directly. You're here for everyone else's piece of mind. She's got the entire base wound up, and it will ease people's minds if there is someone around who can handle her." Clint snorted. "So you are being assigned to train with her."

"So what's everyone gonna think when she wipes the floor with me like she's been doing to everyone else?"

"You brought her in."

Clint laughed, "Only cause she let me."

"If this moves sideways on us, and it more than likely will, it's your ass on the line." Clint didn't seem to grasp the seriousness of the situation.

"You think Fury made a bad call by letting her stay?"

Coulson looked down toward the woman, watching thoughtfully as she and Weiss circled each other. He had a terrible feeling in his gut about this. The woman brought trouble with her.

"You can't tell me it never crossed your mind that maybe she set this all up? That she wanted to get in here? Do you have any idea what kind of damage she could do just being allowed on base?"

Clint followed his gaze, watching her graceful moves, almost like a dance. He'd bet dollars to donuts she was an incredible dancer.

"Naw." He said after a moment. Coulson's head whipped around to stare at him in disbelief. "Relax, it'll all work out. You worry too much. Just wait and see." He gave his handler a firm smack on the shoulder as he walked away to make his way down to the gym to report for his ass kicking.

Coulson really wasn't joking when he described the base as a high school. Like a kid at the bottom of a food chain, Natasha was sitting at a table by herself, reading something while she ate. Clint watched as Weiss came up and seated himself across from her. She didn't acknowledge him, but he didn't seem to mind. He dug into his food enthusiastically and looked up to meet the eyes of people around them as he caught them staring.

Clint smirked, he liked this guy. Grabbing his own food, he ambled over to her and plopped down next to her. She didn't acknowledge him either. Not one to be ignored, he bumped his shoulder against hers.

"My bruises have bruises because of you."

She shot him an annoyed look. Success.

"Maybe if you spent less time taunting me and more time actually fighting me, you wouldn't have wound up on your backside quite so much." She quirked an eyebrow at him briefly and then returned to her reading.

"How's your week been? Are the other kids nice? Have you made any friends?" she dutifully ignored him, so he put his hand in front of her reading. "Come on, admit it. You missed me." he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

She closed her book and turned a scathing glare on him, he gave her a wide grin in return. It had kind of become their thing: he'd say something stupid, she'd glare at him, he'd grin like an idiot, and then…

"ow!"

Without him noticing, she managed to bring the book up behind him and thumped him on the head. She casually returned to her reading like nothing had happened, but he was certain she was biting her cheek a tad to hide a smile. It was worth it.

Weiss was smirking at him, the closest he ever got to laughing, "I think that's the most she's said all week."

Then, to Clint's amazement, Weiss and Natasha shared a look. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Natasha's mouth quirked up ever so slightly for a millisecond, and then it was gone.

What the hell was that all about?

"I'm gone a week and you replace me as your best friend?" his face was the perfect picture of betrayal.

She rolled her eyes, biting her cheek again.

Does anyone else live in constant fear that the next chapter they write won't make sense, or will just plain suck? Or is it just me?