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A/N: This chapter is mostly about the relationship between Dahlia and Natasha, but it also shows the first time she meets our favorite S.H.I.E.L.D operatives - I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter Five
Dahlia shivered and wrapped her cardigan around her body even tighter. She had been left in the empty room for what seemed to be hours, to the point her legs had gone numb and she was almost certain that they would buckle beneath her weight if she tried to stand up. A few people had come through the wide double doors at the opposite end of the hallway, but she had kept her head down, her face curtained by her hair, making sure they couldn't see her.
Behind her eyes, her mind raced with the images of what had happened; what she had caused; of what she was unable to change. Her hands trembled, and she watched the nervous interlocking as if she couldn't quite believe it was them – her small pink blotched hands – that had done so much damage. She clenched her eyes shut, feeling tears of self-pity and frustration burn, and bit her bottom lip to hold back a pathetic sob.
"Miss. Griffiths?"
Dahlia looked up at the voice that broke through her swirling thoughts that had consumed the silence. The man stood with his hands clasped in front of him, well dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. Although he held a neutral expression, giving nothing away, his eyes held disbelief and, maybe, pity when her broken expression peered up at him.
"I'm Agent Coulson," he introduced himself, "If you would follow me…"
She stood shakily, unstable, and it was only the sudden grip of strong hands on her arm that kept her elevated. Her weak smile must have conveyed some kind of gratitude because he returned it almost encouragingly. She didn't pay attention to where she was going, just allowed herself to get led through the many identical corridors, past what had to be members of the facility because they were all wearing the same dark navy jumpsuit – and they all looked at her with the same contempt and unwillingness to believe.
She refused to meet anyone's gaze and instead focused on her battered converses padding along the speckled flooring.
Coulson pulled her to a stop outside a door, and forced her forward. She had never felt more grateful when she was finally seated, her body going lax with relief. Nervously, she raised her eyes to stare through her fringe at the three unknown people, who Coulson had joined on the opposite side of the table. There were two men, one with an eye patch and this intense look that made her swallow noticeably; the other sitting comfortably, one leg drawn up onto the chair, dressed all in black, this look that seemed like a mixture of boredom and pure annoyance at being there in the first place. The one woman in the room stared at her curiously with wide eyes, her hand tapping out a silent tune of the glass surface of the large, circular desk.
"Miss. Griffiths, this is Agent Barton, Agent Romanov and Director Nick Fury," Coulson introduced with a wave of his hand, before claiming a seat for himself. She nodded in acceptance of the names before her gaze returned to her lap.
Agent Barton sighed heavily. "Come on, this is a waste of time. You can't seriously expect us to believe that this girl caused that much damage."
"You shouldn't judge a book by its cover," Agent Romanov stated wisely.
"And it doesn't matter whether you believe it or not, because it happened," Nick Fury added, leaning forward in his seat. He watched the girl across from him with a critical eye. Clint was right, she didn't look like much, but still, that didn't mean she wasn't capable, "Miss. Griffiths, answer me honestly: how did you…?"
Dahlia clenched her fists before realising the grip. "…I…I was just so angry…"
Today is gonna be the day
That they're gonna throw it back to you
By now you should've somehow
Realized what you gotta do
I don't believe that anybody
Feels the way I do, about you now
Natasha paused, lowering her gun slightly. She eyed Dahlia closely, who continued to reload the handgun as if she couldn't hear the song that blaring from her back pocket.
She tilted her head questioningly. "Aren't you going to answer that?"
Dahlia sighed. "It's my sister, so no."
"Um, is there a reason for that?"
"Yes," she nodded, "If I answer that phone, she's going to be mad that I didn't answer the first time she called three hours ago, and then the other four times she called me since then. And then she's going to shout at me for dragging myself into yet another fight with Norse Gods from another planet. It will not be pretty, and I'm planning to put it off for as long as possible. Besides, I like my ringtone," she paused, before diverting the conversation, "Did you that Bruce has no idea about Oasis? I mean, I understand Steve; he's been on ice for the last seventy years, but Bruce has no excuse. I have my work cut out for me between those two, believe me, but I have to admit, I like the challenge…"
"You know it'll only be worse by the time you do answer to Calista right?" Natasha arched an eyebrow.
"Yes, I'm well aware."
"Good, as long as you know," she shrugged, turning back to the target, raising her gun.
Dahlia moved to stand on her right, raising the weapon with two hands. She widened her stance slightly and twisted her body to the side for better aim, as she had been instructed before. Natasha examined her body language before telling her to lower the gun a little.
"It has to be level with your shoulders," she reminded her.
Dahlia rolled her eyes, doing as she was told. "Yes, Tasha, you've told me about a million times before."
"And I'll tell you a million times more until you start lowering your weapon," Natasha reached out a hand to tap the top of the barrel. "Now, relax your grip slightly and…fire."
The shots echoed the room, slicing through the air, before hitting the targets at the opposite end of the firing range with an echoing bang.
Dahlia lowered her gun, eying the target. "I got…a neck wound, what did you get?" she scowled when she saw the bulls' eye, straight in the heart, "Show off."
Natasha laughed, waving it off good-naturedly. "You're getting better. You hit the target this time."
"Yeah, Clint will be happy at least. Remember last time we did a training session together, and I nearly clipped him just a little too close to the family jewels," Dahlia smiled at the memory.
"And he spent the next two hours bitching about it, and refused to set a foot back in this room until Coulson called him on being afraid of a teenager," Natasha finished fondly.
There was a moment of silence when they were reminded of their missing friend, smiles faltering. Natasha cleared her throat quietly, and continued unnecessary checks on the weapon.
"Hey," Dahlia reached out to grasp her hand, stilling her movements, "Don't worry so much. Clint's a big boy – he can take care of himself."
"I know he can. But he saved my life once, and I owe him the same," Natasha responded, her voice firm and nonchalant.
Dahlia rolled her eyes. "You told me that the last time Hawkeye run into a fight, head first, and got himself stabbed by a very angry Frenchman. You nearly ripped that guys head off – you'd think that would make the debt settled," she grinned knowingly, "Unless of course, there's a different reason for your actions…"
"A different reason?" she repeated.
"I mean, really Tasha, I suspected it before and I'm happy for you, really, but it's not healthy to keep all that emotion bottled up only to let it out in violent bursts when Clint gets himself in trouble," Dahlia rambled, "You should do something about it, something to let him know how you feel…"
"What exactly do you mean by that?" Natasha asked, sounding a little flustered.
Dahlia sighed and looked her friend directly in the eye. "What I'm saying is, next time you see Clint Barton – and he will come back to us, unharmed, I can promise you that much – you get a hold of his annoying attractive head and kiss him until his eyes cross."
"I-I don't...me and Clint, we're not…" Natasha stammered her eyes wide with surprise as if she was actually scared of what would happen. It only got worse when the other woman smiled knowingly, so she forced herself to stop talking, turning her attention back to target practise.
The door opened widely behind them, causing the two women's attention to turn, their heads snapping over their shoulders to peer at the flustered scientist that stood awkwardly in the doorway. Bruce fixed his glasses and his clothes appeared dishevelled, probably due to the excitement induced run to reach the two women. He smiled slightly at them, hovering but not entering.
"Um, Fury sent me. We got a hit on the Tesseract's signal – apparently, Loki's in Germany, so we're changing course," he explained, a little short of breath, "Fury wants to debrief, um, Natasha and the Captain, and I need Dahlia's help with going through the research, so…"
Dahlia smiled at him. "Thanks Bruce. We'll be up soon."
He returned her smile crookedly before disappearing beyond the door. She watched him go before quickly lowering her gaze and began the process of unloading the ammo from the barrels.
Natasha smirked at her. "You should take your own advice," she said lowly.
Dahlia stood up straighter and stared determining down at the weapon in hand. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've only just met Bruce, how could I possibly…"
"Oh come on, you told me yourself – Dr. Banner is practically your perfect man to the letter," Natasha pressed.
"That may be, but I never mentioned him specifically," she argued weakly.
"And you have to admit, you've had worse dates," Natasha added, as if she hadn't spoken at all.
Dahlia sighed, resigned. "Well, yeah, that's true."
"So are you admitting you like Bruce?"
"I'll admit that, when you accept you have less than platonic feelings for Clint," Dahlia challenged.
"I guess we've reached a stalemate then."
"It seems we have."
The two shared a blank look before bursting into a fit of laughter, smothered by the palms of their hands.
"Now, what would you do without me?" Dahlia questioned with an amused sigh, "I'll tell you what: live a boring and humourless life, that's what you'd be doing."
"Well, I won't deny that," the red haired confirmed, tucking her weapon back into its holster, "Now, we better go before Fury sends Coulson to drag us out of here."
"By our hair," Dahlia added with a laugh.
"He really does take advantage of the words 'by any means necessary'," Natasha shook her head, her lips twitching upward.
She walked into the room Dahlia had been assigned to with such confidence that it made Dahlia feel so much smaller than she actually was by comparison. The clothes she had been given – just a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans – were too big for her, shrinking her frame, and she tugged the sleeves over her hands nervously.
Once again, her phone vibrated across the metal table, echoing loudly around the small container that was apparently called a room. Dahlia stared at it blankly, but didn't move to answer.
Agent Romanov arched an eyebrow questioningly. "Aren't you going to get that?"
Dahlia shook her head.
"Any reason why?" Romanov pressed.
"It's my older sister, Calista. She worries, a lot about me, and…how am I suppose to explain all of this," she gestured around her, "to her? No, I can't. I won't answer, until I know what I'm supposed to tell her."
"Does she know where you are?"
"Well, she knows I'm on the East Coast if that's what you mean," she smiled wirily.
"You should probably call her, even if you can't tell her anything," Romanov advised, "I doubt you'd want to cause your sister the pain of not knowing where her little sister is."
"What are you doing here, Agent Romanov? I thought today was my day off – no more experiments," Dahlia pressed.
"And you are correct, no more experiments. However, I thought maybe you'd want to try something that doesn't involve being watched by idiots in lab coats through a glass window," Romanov tilted her head slightly, "Barton and I were going to head down to the firing range – care to join us?"
"Firing range," she repeated dumbly, "You want me to go with you to a firing range? Where they have guns and other equally dangerous weapons that I don't know how to use?"
"I'll teach you. Besides, would you rather sit in here by yourself for the rest of the day?"
Dahlia hesitated, biting her bottom lip. She stood up and shuffled to Agent Romanov's side as to not trip on the rolled up hems of her jeans. "So, the firing range, Miss. Romanov. Well, that should be a new experience…"
"I imagine it will be," she mumbled, "And, for as long as you're involved with S.H.I.E.L.D, call me Natasha."
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