The atmosphere in the sedan was chilly to say the least as the three S.H.I.E.L.D agents made their way to the private airfield. Natasha drove, her eyes kept directly ahead, the black widow oozed barely concealed malevolence. Clint sat slumped in the passenger seat staring out of the side window, his chin resting on his hand, his knee bent to allow his heel to rest on the edge of the seat.

In the back Hannah remained poker straight directly in the middle of the seat, her hands folded neatly in her lap. For once the blonde agent wasn't talking; instead she kept her eyes downcast. She didn't want to be in the company of Agents Romanoff and Barton any more than they wanted to be with her and it had been made very obvious to her that neither agent was particularly enamoured with their escort detail. Not only that, but was she now under no illusions as to how agent Barton felt, or rather didn't feel about her. The Black Widow held his heart. As if such rejection was not bad enough, she was returning to S.H.I.E.L.D in disgrace. More than that, she would definitely be returning to her office in records, her hopes to become a field agent in tatters. It was going to be a horrible flight. Her mother had always told her that people who eavesdrop never hear any good. Hannah Foster wished she had listened.

'You have got to be kidding me?' Natasha snapped.

'That's what I said.' Clint responded.

'Can't someone else do it?'

'I also said that.' He rubbed a hand through his hair wearily.

'глиняный дерьма!' She spat. 'Она не что иное, как пустая трата пространства, это было бы лучше просто оставить ее жарить.'

'That... I did not say.'

A fist suddenly caught Barton's shoulder. 'Ow!' he said indignantly.

'Sorry.' Natasha snarked making it obvious she wasn't the slightest bit apologetic. 'You have to admit, the girl has been nothing but trouble.'

'The job was more complicated than we first thought...' Barton began.

'I cannot believe you are defending her!' Natasha faced her partner, hands on her hips.

'I'm not defending her, but you have to concede that getting Red pole to take you prisoner was quite clever?'

'I... was... electrocuted...' The Widow said each word slowly, her teeth gritted.

Barton gave an apologetic shrug.

'And now they expect me to babysit the жалкая мышь!'

'I'll be there too.' Clint pointed out.

'Wonderful! I get to spend nine hours watching her make cow faces at you... it will be a thrilling ride.'

'Would you rather make cow faces at me?' Barton said suppressing a smirk. It earned him an icy glare.

'I do not make cow faces.' She growled.

Clint took the Widow's hands in his own, she gave them up reluctantly. 'It's only another twenty four hours and then we can take some leave. I promise I will spend the entire flight at the opposite end of the aircraft... if it helps I'll even fly it?' He cajoled.

'Don't you dare think you're going to have all the fun and leave me to deal with Foster on my own!'

Clint rolled his eyes. 'Then come watch me fly and let the pilots entertain her, perhaps she'll go all gaga over one of them!'

Natasha's face refused to soften so he continued. 'What do you want me to do? I've done nothing to encourage her; it's all in her head. You know perfectly well I'm not interested in her and never have been. But...'

Natasha's eyes narrowed. 'But what?'

'If you hadn't been jealous, we'd have never have...' The unspoken words hung between them.

Her lips pressed tightly together at the reminder of her admission.

Clint decided it might be wise to move on. 'When we get back to H.Q. Fury will read the reports, and I have no doubt yours will be just glowing, and I would imagine dear little Hannah will be back in the bowels of the building in no time and everything will go on as normal.'

'Will we be normal?' Natasha asked. Her nose wrinkling in concern.

'As close to normal as it's possible for people like us to get.' He said, wrapping her arms around his neck, before his own circled her waist and pulled her towards him.

'Will you teach me to fly?' She asked between small kisses.

Clint appeared to consider for a moment. 'Do you promise to miss if you ever need to aim an aircraft at my head?'

Natasha scrunched her face. 'Not sure I can.'

'Then I am definitely not teaching you to fly.' He said placing a light kiss on the tip of her nose.

The two agents thought they were alone. Clint had taken Natasha away from the main scene to break the news of their next assignment. The mansion's grounds were large and he had chosen an avenue of trees away from prying eyes in case she lost her temper.

Agent Hannah Foster had seen the two agents walking away and, checking no-one was watching her, had concealed herself in the darkness to spy. She did not like what she observed and overheard.

If their passenger's silence was noticed by the two senior agents, they didn't acknowledge it and she was too wrapped up in her own misery to care. As the clock registered six am a small pulse sent a glow through Hannah, for a second she was incandescent and then the wave passed.

From where it rested in her lap, one hand absently lifted the sleeve on the opposite wrist. It had remained hidden, the very nature of the mind control technology meaning the wearer could be made to forget it existed as soon as the master wished it. When Natasha had been released from her restraints she had simply assumed that Foster had been too. However, the bracelet attached by Red pole was still very much in place. Foster ran her fingers over the metal surface, playing idly with the clasp for a few seconds before replacing the sleeve over the wristlet. When she looked up a small vacant smile played on her lips.