sneakronicity

wizbey

ohmydarlingdear

Natasha’s skin felt cold and clammy the second she set foot in the building, and it took all of her strength to not close her eyes against the memories that bombarded her just from being here again.  While some of the building remained intact, this wing was little more than a hollow shell, and she knew instinctively that it was here that she would meet her adversary.  

It was years since this mission, but she swore she could still smell the smoke, feel the heat from the flames, and hear the screams from within.  Screams of those she was sent to kill; screams of those she wasn’t.  Collateral damage; with a big job like this it was to be expected.

That hadn’t made it any easier.

“Reliving all the fond memories?” a voice sounded behind her, in Russian.  Too caught up in her thoughts, Natasha hadn’t heard the approach.  It was a mistake she could not make again. 

When she turned she was met by a blonde woman no older than Kate, and while Natasha was surprised to find a stranger, she was familiar enough with the stance, the bravado, and the look in her eyes.  “Oh, I forgot,” the girl continued in Russian before switching flawlessly to English. “You are no longer Russian.”

“You are like me,” Natasha said, looking her over.  A student of the clearly still active Red Room.  

“No, I am better,” the blonde replied.  

“That depends on the criteria,” Natasha said with a faint smirk.  “I do applaud your choice of venue. You’ve done your research.”

“I did not need to.  Even after you defected we still had to hear of your achievements.  Nobody could measure up to Natalia Romanova,” the blonde spat before a smirk of her own appeared on her lips.  “Nobody until me.”

“And you are?”  She was vaguely familiar to Natasha, but she would have been very young when Natasha had cut her ties with the Red Room.  

“Yelena Belova, the true Black Widow!”  Yelena circled her slowly, measuring her from every angle, and Natasha made no move to even acknowledge this.  “I am the first to exceed all of your scores.  Now there is only one thing keeping me from becoming the legend that you once were.  You.”

Natasha betrayed no emotion, and looked rather bored at the whole exchange, which was actually a carefully mastered mask. “I believe you mean the legend that I am,” she said calmly, testing Yelena’s patience and control of her emotions.  Perhaps technically she was an excellent mercenary, but there was more to being the best than that.  “Legends never die.”

“But you will!”  And with that Yelena attacked.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The hand around Clint’s throat tightened, but weak and bound there was little he could do to stop it.  

So this was how he was going to die, tied to a table and choked to death in Russia of all places.  Not quite the blaze of glory he had always imagined, but somehow he wasn’t surprised. Just his luck, really.  He only wished he could save Natasha the pain and guilt.  He had complete confidence that she would triumph and find him, but even in his last moments he couldn’t bring himself to think of how she would react when she discovered she was too late.  Instead he thought of her smile, that quiet giggle she insisted was nothing of the sort, and the way she looked at him when he made an intentional fool of himself.

His chest ached and darkness started to cloud his vision when suddenly the pressure on his neck vanished.  Blinking rapidly, he lifted his head to peer over the side of the table.  On the floor lay the Russian with an arrow protruding from his eye socket. 

Furrowing his brow in confusion, Clint could only stare helplessly at his now deceased attacker until a sudden touch on his shoulder made him start.  Whipping his head around he met the startled gaze of Kate Bishop.

“Clint... calling for you... here to...”

He tried to read her lips but he was too shocked and disoriented, and she was talking too fast.  He quickly shook his head to cut her off.  “Can’t hear.  Aids are fried,” he said. Kate’s lips thinned grimly before she nodded.  “Where’s Natasha?”  He was surprised to see Kate, surprised that Natasha would bring any help at all, but he was trained to think on his feet and roll with the punches so he pushed all that aside.  There was no time to waste on the trivial things, he could get an explanation later.

“She is downstairs. She sent me to find you,” Kate replied, mouthing the words clearly for him to read.  That done, she set about releasing the straps that held him down.  Helping him sit up and swing his legs over the side of the table, she kept one hand on his back to steady him.

“Guards?” Clint asked, looking up at her.  She grinned at him and picked up the bow again, one that he instantly recognized.  “Nice bow,” he said.  He had designed and crafted it by hand, and the only other person to ever touch it until now was Natasha.  Kate simply shrugged one shoulder at him before rounding the table to retrieve her arrow from the downed guard.  When she returned to Clint’s side she raised her eyebrows at him in silent question.  Was he able to stand?  He nodded and slid off the edge of the table, sucking in a breath when his feet touched the cold floor.  For that brief moment he was glad he couldn’t hear because Kate’s expression made it clear that that was the only reason she wasn’t teasing him right now.  “All those cuts and bruises and you wince at a little bit of cold?” he could imagine her saying.

It took him a moment to steady himself.  His legs were weak but they would carry him; they had to.  Who knew how many more guards were out there and Kate was going to need both arms free to fend them off.  She couldn’t drag his sorry ass out of here. He had to do this on his own.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said, gritting his teeth and shuffling along after Kate as she led the way.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The two Black Widows were fairly well matched.  One attacked and the other countered only to launch their own assault back, ensuring that neither of them remained on the offensive for long.  Ultimately, though, it was Natasha’s experience that gave her the edge, but Yelena was not without her own tricks.

“It is good to see you have kept up your skills,” she said, blocking a punch and leaping away from a kick.  “That lazy partner of yours did not even put up a fight.”

The falter in Natasha’s movements was so slight it was almost unnoticeable, but it was exactly what Yelena had been going for.  “He really was nice to look at, it was a shame what I had to do to him,” she continued, fighting back with renewed ferocity, and taking great delight in the fact that she was gaining the upper hand.  “But he kept pretending like he could not even hear me.  So I had to make sure he was paying attention.”

Those words struck Natasha particularly hard and she made a misstep, leaving her right side open.  Yelena didn’t fail in taking advantage, grabbing Natasha’s arm and bringing her knee up into her ribs once, twice, three times before Natasha wrenched free, holding her side and gasping.  “I bet he heard himself scream, though.  Everyone in the building did.”

A boot to the face brought Natasha to the ground.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

When Kate left the examining room where she had found Clint, she didn’t take the same route that had brought her in.  She knew her orders, knew she should be getting him out, but the idea of leaving Natasha here with who knew how many other thugs didn’t sit well with her.  So, recalling the map Natasha had drawn earlier, she moved towards the front, hoping to cross paths on her way out.

Clint stayed close behind her the whole time, his whole body stiff with pain and agitation.  Kate could only imagine how difficult this was for him, having to trust solely in her to listen for both of them.  The building was eerily silent as it was, but at least she could hear that.  For all Clint knew there was gunfire and explosions going on in other parts of the building.  

It didn’t take long for the scenery to start to change.  Charred walls, missing staircases, piles of rubble everywhere.  That’s when Kate heard it: the sounds of struggle, the raised voice.  Stopping in her tracks she peered over the railing to the floor below and saw Natasha and a blonde woman locked in a bitter battle, one that the latter seemed to be winning.  Nocking an arrow, she aimed at Natasha’s opponent, but before she could take the shot, Clint grabbed her hand on the arrow and shook his head.  

“Don’t,” he said.  “Not yet.”  He knew more about the situation than Kate, knew there was some history there, and he knew that this was Natasha’s fight.  She wouldn’t want them to interfere, not unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then he knew they would catch some flack for it.  This was her fight, but unless it was clear she was not going to make it through then they had to let her finish it.

Against her better judgment Kate listened to him, but while she lowered the bow she kept the arrow ready just in case.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Pushing herself up to her knees and elbows, Natasha pressed one hand to her ribs before spitting out a mouthful of blood.  That last kick had split her bottom lip as well as cut the inside of them on her teeth, and she was sure a few of her ribs were at least bruised, but not as bruised as her ego. The thought that Clint’s torture had been worse because he was deaf had been unexpected.  Yelena wouldn’t know of his disability, so Natasha could only assume those words were true. She had let Yelena throw her off, had let her get into her head and use her emotions against her.  Another mistake she would not repeat.  

“I must say, I am disappointed,” Yelena said, pulling a gun from her belt and pointing it at Natasha in a way that was careless, as if she was no longer a threat.  “For years I was made to believe that you were the best and that nobody could measure up to you.  I expected more of a fight.”

“I’m sorry I do not live up to your expectations,” Natasha replied, lifting her head and glaring up at Yelena through her hair.  “Perhaps the years have made me soft, or maybe I just found there was more to life than pain and death.”

Yelena laughed, and it was a cold, cruel sound.  “Is this the part where you try to convince me to give up my life as you did and take some sort of moral stand?”  She cocked the gun.  “Because I am not interested.”

As the gun was aimed with more purpose now, Natasha caught sight of movement behind Yelena, on the mezzanine above.  Looking over Yelena’s shoulder she saw Kate taking aim... and Clint at her side.  There was blood on her teeth when she smiled at her would-be executioner.

“That’s really too bad, little one...” she said, and before anyone could fire their weapon Natasha had swept her foot around, kicking the gun out of Yelena’s hand.  Without missing a beat she was on her feet, grabbing Yelena’s arm and twisting it behind her back while kicking her leg at just the right angle to cause a sickening crunch to echo through the room.  Yelena cried out but Natasha held her tight, one arm locked around her throat, cutting off her air supply.  “Because if your goal is to be better than me you have failed.  Fighting for what is right and letting myself care for others has not made me weak.  Those things give me strength.  If you continue along the path you are on you will one day grow tired, and you will not be as lucky as I was.”

She looked up at Kate and Clint and nodded her head; the former lowered her weapon.  “Perhaps worse, one day someone will come along who is better than you, and then what?  With nothing else in your life you will have nothing to fall back on.  You will have lived your life in a shadow only to be overshadowed yourself, and then who will you be?”  Yelena’s breathing was laboured and Natasha felt her giving up the struggle.  “You will never be the Black Widow, little one, but maybe it is time you find out who Yelena is.  I was given the chance to become more than Natalia, to discover who I truly was, and now I am giving you that chance.”

Loosening her hold she let Yelena drop to the floor where the younger woman collapsed, gasping for breath.  “If you ever try to get to me through anyone I love ever again I will not be so merciful.  I hope we never meet again.”

Looking up to the mezzanine again she found Kate and Clint were gone.  Stooping to collect the fallen gun Natasha walked away without a single look back.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The drive was made in relative silence, both out of respect for Clint’s situation, and because they were all weary in many different ways and needed the time for quiet, personal reflection.  

When they reached Natasha’s safehouse Kate helped Clint from the vehicle, and he let himself lean heavily on her now that she didn’t need to be ready to defend them any longer.  Natasha moved ahead of them, disabling the securities and letting them into the house before locking up behind them once more.

“Get him to the bedroom,” she said, the first words spoken since they had reunited outside of the burned out hospital, and more words than had been said then.  “I will start a fire and heat some water.”

Kate didn’t argue, and although Clint’s eyes lingered on Natasha even as she retreated, he didn’t either.  

Once in the bedroom Kate threw back the cover and helped him lay on the bed.  When he was settled she lit the lamp on the nightstand and sat on the edge of bed, giving him a weak smile.  When he opened his eyes to find her looking at him he smiled back.  “That was some fancy shooting back there,” he said.  He had seen more examples of her handiwork on the guards outside when they had left the hospital through the front entrance.  He had always been impressed with her skills on the range, but this was the first time he had seen her in a true combat situation and she certainly hadn’t disappointed.  

“It was,” she agreed, mouthing the words carefully and smiling a little wider. “Of course having a good bow helped.”

“I made her myself, you know,” Clint said, and Kate’s expression made it clear that yes, she did know.  So, Natasha had told her the story.  “My original design, and still one of my best.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean her well before I put her away,” Kate said.  She moved to stand, but Clint’s hand caught her wrist.

“It’s kind of a shame she sits in that wall all the time, just collecting dust...” he trailed off, and the excited spark in Kate’s eyes banished any reluctance he had about what he was about to do.  “Keep her.  I got a new one now, and she deserves a little action.”

It was clear that there were a million things Kate wanted to say, but in the end she settled on a simple ‘Thank you’ and a press of his hand.  After that they sat in comfortable silence until Natasha joined them with a basin of steaming water, a wash cloth and a first aid kit.  “I’ll go see what I can find for food,” Kate said, excusing herself from the room.  Obviously Clint and Natasha needed some time alone, and there was a perfectly comfortable looking sofa in the other room calling her name.  After she took proper care of her new bow, of course.

Setting the basin on the night stand, Natasha claimed the space Kate had just vacated.  It took her a moment to make herself look at Clint, and while she was relieved to see that the damage wasn’t as extensive as Yelena had led her to believe, the fact that every injury he sustained was because of her simply turned her stomach.  Without meeting his eyes she set about cleaning the worst of his wounds first and assessing any further damage.  She checked each finger and toe, and even his mouth despite his protests.  She was relieved to find that she had reached him before Yelena had started breaking bones or removing bits of him.

Clint watched her as she disinfected his wounds and bandaged what was necessary, noting how she looked anywhere but his eyes.  He didn’t tell her it wasn’t her fault, because while she had done nothing to cause it, it had happened because of her, and he knew she wouldn’t accept the words.  Instead he just let her work, let her fix the damage done as best she could, and only when she was clearly just lingering, unsure what to do next, did he finally speak.  “Tasha...” he said softly, reaching up to gently touch his fingers to her cut and bruised lip.  She started at the touch and instinctively her eyes shot up to meet his.  

Then she was lost.

He always had such expressive eyes, and now was no exception.  Within their blue depths she saw so many things: pain, affection, acceptance, sadness, but among all of them she saw no blame, no anger, no accusation.  Unfortunately she felt enough of all those things for the both of them.  

“Looks like you need a little fixing too,” he continued but Natasha shook her head.  Gently taking his hand she lowered it back to the bed before letting go.

I am fine, she signed to him, and despite everything Clint smiled.  She had already been fluent in many languages when he had first brought her to S.H.I.E.L.D., but when he had confessed to her about his hearing loss she had made sure to add another to her repertoire.  He had told her it wasn’t necessary, that the implants worked fine, but she had always said that there could come a time when they didn’t.

As always, she had been right.

It was a relief to not have to focus on reading her lips, and he relaxed back against the pillow a little.  When he opened his eyes this time he found Natasha watching him intently.  What happened? she asked, and pointed to her ears.  

He didn’t want to tell her, didn’t want to give her more to feel guilty about, but he knew she wouldn’t let him get out of it, and he couldn’t lie to her.  They had passed that point a while ago, and now even the thought of it left a bad taste in his mouth.  Just a little electrocution, he signed back, trying to keep the answer light, but it lost its effect without the inflection to go with it.  

She winced at the explanation and looked away again.  After a moment she moved to stand and reached for the basin but Clint grabbed her arm and shook his head.  “Stay,” he said, tugging her gently back down.  “Please.”

The plea in his voice, in his eyes, was difficult to refuse, and reluctantly she settled at his side again.  She couldn’t avoid him, couldn’t avoid talking to him, and maybe it would be easier this way.  Her voice would betray her, but her hands never failed her.  They were always steady, always strong, even when she couldn’t be.

I am sorry - she started but Clint cut her off, grabbing her hands and shaking his head at her.  “Don’t,” was all he said before releasing her again.  She wasn’t so easily waylaid, though.  I should have killed her when I had the chance.  At the time it had seemed like the right decision, letting Yelena go, but seeing Clint like this and thinking about all the pain he must have gone through at her hands filled Natasha with such anger and guilt that it was hard to justify now that she had let the woman go free.  

You gave her a chance.  Like I gave you, Clint responded. 

Natasha shot him an unpleasant look.  She knew it was impossible not to draw comparisons between them, but in this moment that was the last thing she wanted.  She could come after you again, she replied, the movements of her hands quick and precise as she formed the words.  

She won’t.  He smiled slightly with that and Natasha’s brow furrowed.  She is arrogant, not stupid.

Natasha wanted to believe him, but it was difficult with his wounds so raw and the way they were communicating.  All of this because Yelena had wanted to prove herself better than Natasha.  But she could... she started to say, but her hands fell still. Some things were difficult to say even without her voice.  She took you because she knew you were important to me, and that I would come for you.

I knew you would too, Clint replied without hesitation.  For a long moment neither of them said anything nor moved, and a heaviness settled in the air around them.  They were so close to saying the things they had been dancing around for some time now, but neither one knew the right words.  

Why do you have such faith in me? Natasha eventually asked, her eyes searching his.  

Slowly he reached up to cup the side of her face, his thumb gently brushing her cheek.  “You’ve never let me down,” he said quietly.

The words might have seemed simple to anyone else, but Natasha knew their true importance.  Clint’s early life had been full of disappointment and betrayal, and everyone he had cared about had let him down.  His life had certainly improved since joining S.H.I.E.L.D., but while she was pretty sure he trusted and admired Nick Fury and now Kate, she knew the list was still very short.  The fact that he believed that much in her meant everything.

Covering his hand with her own, she turned her face into his touch and placed a lingering kiss on his palm before opening her eyes to meet his again.  Whatever words they were struggling to convey passed within that gaze.  Resting her free hand on the bed beside him she leaned down to kiss him softly, ignoring the stinging in her cut lip.  Pain had never felt so good.  

The kiss remained gentle, slow, but no less meaningful for it.  It was filled with truth, longing, and a promise of so much more, and when she finally pulled away they were both smiling.  Yelena had taken him because she knew he was important to Natasha, but she could have never known just how much.  This wasn’t about debts and ledgers but about true affection, trust and devotion.  He was a weakness that could be exploited, but she didn’t want to think about that now.  

Stretching out beside him on the bed, Natasha lay on her side with as little distance between them as possible without actually touching him.  He was badly cut and bruised but she found a patch of skin on his shoulder that was free of harm that she brushed her lips against.  It was here that she made her confessions, softly spoken words that he could not hear.  He could feel her breath, feel the vibration of her voice, and as the exhaustion pulled him into a deep sleep he imagined all the things she was saying, all the things he had longed to hear her say.

He had no way of knowing that his imagination was pretty damn close to reality.