*cue fancy music* I am officially back everyone! YAY! let me just say now... I MISSED THE INTERNET SOOOO MUCH! *sobs in a corner and grows mushrooms* anyways, enough sobbing! I just wanted to thank you all so much for being patient with me! Moving has been really tough on me (just consult my poetry folder and you'll know why) and writing is really my only outlet for that kinda crap XD
important note!
PLEASE REREAD CHAPTER 5! i REWROTE SOME OF IT, SO READ IT AGAIN BEFORE PROCEEDING!
ahem :) thank you, and enjoy!
~Chapter 6
Nick Fury had known that a certain Pepper Potts was in on the Avengers initiative and all it entailed, but he knew she was smart enough to stay out of, for the most part. They had talked for a long while on a few occasions on the welfare of the entire team and made quick friends, as if they had known each other for years.
He hadn't expected to get a very heated call from her one afternoon while he enjoyed his tar-like coffee from the break room and momentary silence.
"I want a handler." Pepper says simply.
Fury goes slack jawed for a moment, and then he answers slowly, "A handler isn't a babysitter, Pepper. They are for handling missions, and other things expressly concerned with their charges missions."
"They are a bunch of children, Nick." Pepper says seriously. "I can't stand the constant bickering, the messes they make—Thor I can understand, because he's not completely familiar with Earth, but… the things they do to get back at each other…"
"I can only imagine." Fury admits.
"No." Pepper replies, her voice cold. "No, you can't."
Fury can't help but be somewhat disturbed. "So what do you want me to do?"
"Just send someone who can get them under control."
Pepper Potts hangs up on Nick Fury without a second thought.
Nick lowers the phone, frowning. There were very few handlers that even bothered with just Clint and Natasha. Phil Coulson was a godsend, but ever since his death, he'd been wary of reassigning a handler to either Hawkeye or Black Widow. Add the rest of the Avengers into the mix and the person he sent would probably commit suicide at the first chance.
Fury sighs and starts punching in another number to call his last resort committee.
"Hello?"
"Beckett, you're on."
Rebecca Beckett stares upward toward the top of the building, trying to see if there was an end. If she stares long enough, maybe the top won't seem so far away.
She knows that Fury really had no choice in calling her for the job—the Avengers are a handful, but she's good at those kinds of things and Fury knows all too well also. Her lack of following the less needed protocols such as dress code and proper addressing of superiors made her somewhat of a legend amongst the newbies. She may not follow every order to a tee, but Fury had always admired her ability to get things done, even if it wasn't the most conventional way of doing things.
Becky pulls her green hoodie closer around herself to keep the cold air out and smirks as she walks in the front lobbie.
This was going to be fun.
*(*)*
"No." Clint says stubbornly, crossing his arms. He refrains from wincing, all too aware of the way it made his shoulder ache. The pain was a constant reminder of his screw up, and it annoyed him immensely.
"I'm not arguing with you. Once you ask her everything you need to, you're going back." Natasha kicks at the pure white snow, watching as more flurries floated down to the already covered ground. They had decided to take a short walk around the property Irena owned near the top of the mountain.
"Nat, there is no way I'm leaving you in the heart of the Motherland alone."
Natasha snorts. "Yes, well you certainly proved you can take care of yourself. You are the expert after all." She notices how much he bristles at the statement, but doesn't really care at the moment. She just wants him out of Russia and back home safely where he can heal without worry. "Was getting shot part of the plan?"
"That is low, Tasha. Very low." He growls, glaring at the redhead.
Natasha cracks a smile, on a roll now. "I think you're just mad because they stole your thunder by using out of date weaponry."
"Hey, my arrows are just as good as any bullet, if not better!" Hawkeye tries to convince her. He eyes her funny. "What's up with you? It's like you're trying to start a fight or something"
Natasha steps closer to Clint, her head tilted to stare him in the eye. "Don't know. What's up with you?" She questions, peering into his soul.
Clint doesn't know what to do. Nat likes her personal space, and now here she is, practically an inch away.
Okay, she's not that close, but the aura she was giving off almost made him dizzy.
All of a sudden, the world spins, and he's flat on his back, Natasha looking down at him with slight disinterest.
"Did you just faint?" She asks.
"Guess so…I'm on the ground, but I wasn't a second ago." He mumbles, his head still spinning from his quick descent.
Nat offers him and hand and he takes it, letting her help pull him to his feet.
"You probably lost a good bit of blood when you got hurt." Natasha says simply. "Can you walk?"
Clint just nods numbly.
Blood loss. Right.
"I've already called SHIELDs and told them to expect you back, so you're leaving in the morning."
"No. Only if you come with me." Clint repeats, leaning against a snowy tree trunk in case he decides to fall over again. "What are you doing here anyways? Fury never said anything. And you didn't tell me you were leaving."
"I don't have to tell you everything." Nat says, snapping at him.
"No. But partners shouldn't keep secrets. What are you doing here, Natasha?"
The way he says her name instantly makes her feel guilty, and she wants to tell him, but thinks better of it, wiping those emotions and thoughts clean from the blackboard of her mind.
She bites her lip, but finally says, "If I go back with you, will you stop asking?"
Clint stays silent, his eyes unreadable.
"Fine, Nat." He says after a long pause, sounding tired. "I'll trust you."
Natasha can't help but feel hurt by the hidden text in his words.
I'll trust you, even though you don't trust me enough to tell me.
*(*)*
"That's it, you're going down!" Tony roars, stomping over to Banner. "I don't care how green you may get, I'm going to beat you in this stupid contest!"
"What contest?" Pepper asks, fearful of the answer.
Bruce sits on the couch, arms crossed. "Tony apparently started an all out prank war between us after I got a blue dye bomb to go off in his suit." He smirks. "He looked like a smurf. Sorry you didn't get to see it, Pepper."
Pepper can't help but giggle at the thought. Her giggles dissolve when Tony goes into serious mode again.
"Shut up! I hate that show! And why is there only one woman smurf?! It makes no sense!"
"Mrs. Potts, someone from SHIELDs is here." Jarvis says, breaking into the conversation. "Shall I let her in?"
"Yes, Jarvis." Pepper replies. "Thank you." She glares at the two fighting Avengers. "Behave." She hisses.
The elevator doors open, and Pepper walks forward to greet the woman.
She wasn't overly tall, only about fight 5' 5" with waist length black hair and striking green eyes.
"You're with SHIELDs?" Tony says, not believing it. She looked incredibly normal with her casual attire, and nothing like the people Fury usually sends.
She nods and sticks her hand out to Tony. "Rebecca Beckett. Call me Becky."
Tony stares at the offered hand, as if unsure what to do. Banner stands and shakes her hand instead. "I'm Bruce. Bruce Banner. Nice to meet you…but may I ask why you're here?"
Tony just drops into a seat, taking a swig of water from his glass that had been momentarily forgotten on the table.
Becky smiles. "I'm the Avengers' official handler."
Tony spits water in Bruce's face.
"Aw, Hell no!"
*(*)*
"I do not understand why you dislike the young maiden," Thor says to an upset Tony, sounding confused. "She is kind, yet unyielding, as are the great women of Asgard!"
"Aw, thanks Thor!" Becky says brightly, happy to have been compared to Asgardian women.
"Yeah. Quit being such a jerk to the lady." Steve says, not liking the way Tony glared at her.
"Shut up Capsicle." Tony shoots back.
Bruce snorts. "You're just mad cause she took away your snacks."
"You're damn right I am." Tony grumbles. "This is my house! Why can't I have snacks when I want, especially since I bought them!"
"You only bought 12% of them!" Pepper calls from the other room.
Tony groans. "Now Pepper is against me too!" He glares at everyone around him. "Thanks a lot guys. I know you're jealous that I have such a great girlfriend and all but that doesn't-."
Becky slaps Tony on the back of the head. "Quiet. You'll wake the neighbors."
"Hello, earth to crazy lady." He waves wildly all around them. "We are in a skyscraper."
"Good for you!" Becky smirks, "Now who wants to make dinner?"
No one raises their hand. She sighs. "I can't cook worth a crap…but…" She grins evilly. "Thor can help me with everything!"
Thor is standing in a flash. "We shall prepare a glorious feast in honor of this fine maiden!"
*(*)*
"This computer chip." Clint says, holding up the little bag of evidence. "You say you know who manufactured it?"
Irena nods. "A very ambitious man by the name of Kevin Montague. He came to Russia about two years ago as an ambassador. When he was suspected of leaking sensitive information, he was released."
"My guess is he actually was leaking information?" Natasha says dully.
"Yes. And he still is."
"Through this chip?" Clint frowns at the tiny hunk of metal. Could something this small really be worth so much? If it held much sought after information, he supposes so.
"Yes. Very easy to produce, and very easy to sell to the highest bidder."
Hawkeye sighs and stuffs the chip back into a pocket in his vest. "Thanks. You've been a big help, Irena."
Irena smiles as the two get up and gather their things as they prepare for the flight home.
"Also…"
"Yes?" Irena asks, taking a sip of her tea.
"Do you know what's programmed into this thing?" Clint asks, throwing his bag over his good shoulder.
"All I know is it could be a threat to your homeland security."
"A big threat?" Natasha asks, almost fearful of the answer.
"A very big threat." Irena confirms.
"And Tasha." Irena calls after her. Natasha tells Clint to go on without her for a bit.
"Yes?"
Irena holds out a small envelope. " My ex is holding a ball a week from tomorrow. He is expecting you to attend."
Nat accepts the envelope, and opens it, staring at the fancy Russian calligraphy that told her she was invited to the Chekhov Noble Ball.
"I'll be there."
*(*)*
Very rarely did the spies travel by anything fancier than a cargo plane.
Economy is a nice change for the two, though Clint could've done without the little girl behind him screaming and kicking his chair.
He stares out the window beside Tasha, wondering what she had been doing in Russia as the snowy mountain caps grow smaller and smaller and finds sleep weighs heavy on his thoughts.
Clint never knows when his next chance to sleep might be so, he slides farther into his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, closing his eyes.
Hawkeye is out cold in half a moment.
Natasha really isn't sure when Clint had managed to wilt to his right and come to be sleeping her shoulder.
She doesn't want to wake him, as he knows he has a right to being tired and sleeping off the already boring flight, but she can't shake the feeling that something is different.
They had slept in very tight spaces before, one time having to stay knotted together underneath an office desk all night while waiting for a paper to be slipped under the door, but it hadn't been awkward or uncomfortable like it is now. She lets him sleep though, and decides to wake him when they get there.
He looks so calm, his breathing slow and rhythmic, the stress and tension dissolving from his expression. Nat knows that all the worries and anxiety will return as soon as he opens those beautiful grey-blue eyes.
"What're you staring at, Tasha?" Clint asks tiredly, his lips barely moving.
Natasha nearly jumps, and then forces herself to look the other way. Her partner hadn't even opened his eyes and he knew she was staring.
"You fell asleep on me." She states, clearly avoiding the question.
Now Clint opens his eyes wearily, sitting up straight and stretching before letting out a jaw-cracking yawn. "Sorry bout that."
"I was going to wake you when we got there," She tells him, straightening her shirt.
"It's okay. We're not over ocean anymore, so we must be close."
She doesn't reply.
"Something wrong?" Clint asks, picking up her mood in an instant.
"No, I was just thinking." She grimaces. "Stark crossed my mind."
Clint can't suppress a groan. "Oh, gods, I forgot about them… Ugh, if there is one thing I miss about Russia it's how far you are from your neighbors. It's so quiet there."
Again, Natasha is silent.
He frowns at her, feeling as if something was wrong and it was because of something he had done. "Are you sure something isn't wrong here?"
"I'm sure."
Clint's frown deepens but he just stares ahead, not knowing what to say to the very reclusive Black Widow.
thanks for reading and one more thing before you all leave!
My goal is to get at least one hundred reviews on this story! only you guys can make that happen! So, if you added this to your alerts or favorties, all i'm asking for is one measely review! It doesn't have to be indepth as to why you liked it- it could just be a smiley face or you saying that you like it ( or hate it if you're that kind of person XD)
anyways, just one review from each of you would make my day, even if you're trolling!
Thanks so much for understanding that real life can get in the way, and thank you for reviewing if you decide to so :D
much more love than letters can give,
gilraenstar :3
P.S. This chapter is dedicated to Dreamcollector :) The girl who lends me her heart when mine is broken :)