A Gift From: magnetgirl
Title: And to hide that would be so dishonest
A Gift For: alphaflyer
Rating: Teen
Warnings/Choose Not To Warn: canon typical violence, referenced child abandonment/abuse, genetic manipulation/experimentation, undisclosed drugs
Summary/Prompt Used: Mission at a winery.
Author's Note: This story takes place in an alternate universe where the Avengers do not exist. Clint, Natasha, Yelena, and Kate are SHIELD agents; Alexei and Melina are foreign operatives the people in charge have decided not to arrest (yet). The bones of canon remain true: the Russian family were estranged for years and only recently reunited, and Kate was inspired by an encounter with Clint (sans aliens). Happy holidays!


And to hide that would be so dishonest

More than a decade after Budapest there were very few “first”s left to experience in their relationship. It was not their first Thanksgiving together, not even their first Thanksgiving together as a couple, though perhaps their first as an ‘official’ couple. It depended who you asked. But this particular Thanksgiving, which they were celebrating the third week in December because they were on call for the real day, was their first as a couple with her family. And his family if you count the new adult pseudo-daughter he semi-inherited when her mother went to prison, which of course they do.

 

Blended family brought blended cuisine and their Thanksgiving-in-December family dinner featured a full array of traditional foods: vareniki beside the mashed potatoes, herring next to turkey, both borscht and butternut squash soup, and a giant casserole dish of pink macaroni and cheese. Wine flowed freely, and with it conversation.

 

“She is your daughter?”

 

It was obvious to Clint that Alexei wanted this clarified from the moment they arrived. Natasha was a decade and change younger than Clint but they met as adults and peers. And thanks to the genetic manipulation of the Red protocols both Alexei and Melina were older than they appeared. But Clint having a daughter the same age as Yelena muddled the situation.

 

“She’s my partner,” he explained.  

    

Alexei’s genial interest, which, to be honest, was already less amiable than anyone at the table preferred, turned dark. “You said Natasha was your—"

 

“Ew!” Kate interrupted with a shriek. Yelena spit out her drink laughing.

 

“No. Yes. She is,” Clint tried to clarify. “Kate works with me.” Not that he didn’t also work with Natasha. And not that their personal relationship didn’t grow out of their working relationship. Not that actually every personal and romantic relationship he’d had over the years grew out of a working relationship because this work was hell on relationships. But none of that was pertinent information when he had an angry Russian breathing down his neck because he might be toying with his daughter’s heart. 

 

“Ahhhh.” Alexei leaned back, newly relaxed. “Business partner.”

 

“Well, it’s not a business but—"

 

“Oh, it’s a business,” Kate interrupted again. “Just not one we get paid for.”

 

Clint frowned. “Making money is what makes a business a business.”

 

“Oh yeah?” chirped his protégé. “What about a non-profit charity organization?”

 

“Non-profits make money.”

 

“But not profit.”

 

Natasha and Yelena were used to this back and forth and Alexei appeared charmed. But now Melina was troubled. “I do not like charities,” she said.

 

Kate made a face. “Who doesn’t like charities?”

 

“Me.” A long pause followed Melina’s one word assertion. They were all waiting for elaboration but Melina was content to quietly sip her wine. Finally, after an exasperated nudge from Natasha, she replaced the glass and drew back to explain her position. “They exist only to reveal the cracks in society. A functioning society would not require separate business to take care of what government should be doing.”

 

Natasha swallowed a sigh as Kate stared wide-eyed at the eldest Widow. “Okay but Hawkeye is not that,” Kate said.

 

“It’s not a charity at all,” Yelena added, helpfully.

 

“Or a business,” agreed Natasha.

 

“Or a thing!” said Clint, also exasperated. “Hawkeye is a person. Me. I’m Hawkeye.” Kate shot him an offended look and he sighed. “We’re Hawkeye.”

 

Alexei grinned. “Oh, partner like team.” He gestured to Natasha, Yelena, and Melina with one hand. “Black Widows.” He raised his other hand to indicate Clint and Kate. “Hawkeyes.” He opened both hands and arms wide, his exuberance filling the space as surely as his heft did. 

 

Clint glanced to the others. Melina flashed a fond smile to the sort of father of her sort of children. Kate and Yelena fought an increasingly difficult battle to not burst out laughing. Natasha’s eyes begged him to end this conversation. “Right. Hawkeyes.” 

 

Alexei slapped his shoulder. Clint hid his pain as best he could. “We will team up.”

 

Again, Natasha silently but frantically told him not to agree to this. Clint decided to change the subject. “So, what are your plans for the holidays?” At this, however, Natasha’s eyes grew even more frantic. Clint began to think he needed a more complete briefing about her family. 

 

“We are going to Disneyland,” Alexei said with pride that demanded a bigger reaction than Clint felt able to provide. 

 

“Oh. Really?” Clint understood Disneyland to be for kids.

 

“When Yelena was little girl, she wanted to wear princess dress and meet big rat.”

 

“Mouse.”

 

Alexei cocked his head. “Hm?”

 

“Mickey is a Mouse.” The Russian squinted. Clint shook his head. “Never mind.” It could not be less important. “That sounds like a lovely family trip.”

 

Alexei grinned. “You will come!” He slapped Clint’s shoulder again and again Clint swallowed a grimace.

 

“What?”

 

“It is a family trip,” Alexei explained as if to someone very young, or very slow. “Natasha is family.”

 

Clint glanced over to Natasha for help but based on her expression she was rethinking their entire relationship.

 

“We have plans,” he told Alexei. 

 

“Change them.”

 

“We can’t it’s a—"

 

“Romantic getaway,” Natasha interjected, her voice too loud in the small space.

 

“—mission,” Clint finished with a confused frown. Why would she call it a romantic getaway?

 

Alexei’s eyes lit up. “Mission?”

 

Oh, Clint realized a split second too late.

 

 

It took forty minutes, Melina’s intervention, and a promise to join them on their next family vacation, to get past Alexei’s determination to know every detail of their secret mission. Nor did it truly end there. When they headed out the next morning, Alexei pulled Natasha aside to make sure she had all his contacts and stressed she could call on him for help with anything.

 

“Anything. If bird gives you trouble, I take care of it. Either bird. Both birds.” He leaned in. “Two birds, one big stone.” Natasha smiled. He was ridiculous, but also earnest. She knew the threat to murder her friends was meant as a show of affection.

 

“I know.” She did not say ‘papa’ but he heard It. It was weird to have them back in her life. Weird to acknowledge how much they’d shaped her, and how much she missed them.

 

Clint closed the trunk on their bags and returned to her side. “Ready?” She nodded.

 

“See you soon!” Alexei slapped Clint’s shoulder one last time for good measure. “Maybe we go on cruise!” he called as the couple scrambled into the car before they had to commit to being trapped together on a boat. Natasha took the wheel and sped away from Alexei, Melina, Yelena, and Kate waving in front of the little cottage they’d rented for the occasion, Christmas lights twinkling despite the breezy California weather.

 

Clint rubbed his shoulder as the family tableau faded behind them. “My arm is going to ache for a week.”

 

Natasha had no sympathy. “You need to listen to me.”

 

Clint found this somewhat unfair given the only warning she’d shared about the Red Guardian was describing him as ‘a lot’. “It would help if you told me—"

 

“I did tell you.” Natasha kept her eyes and attention on the road, but the tension in her shoulders and the aggressive way she handled the shift disclosed the extent of her ire. In a way, it calmed Clint. She wouldn’t reveal the depth of her feelings to many.

 

“Wagging your eyes behind your father’s back is not telling me.” he chided.

 

A flurry of responses lit up her face.

I did not wag my anything! 

He’s not my father!

I told you to be careful!

Ugh!

 

Clint smiled. “I heard all of that.” She ignored him. The normal mask of haughty indifference slammed into place but it was too late to deter him. “Thank you.”

 

Natasha narrowed her eyes. In confusion, he understood. 

 

“You got your family back and you let me be a part of that.” Her chin moved with the slightest of shivers. He reached up to brush her jawline with his thumb. “It means a lot to me.” Her lips quirked, the ghost of a smile that warmed him as surely as the sun. Clint flipped on the radio and settled back to enjoy the ride.

 

 

 

The mission was simple. Two years back one of California’s oldest vineyards was purchased by Zane Rose, likely an alias, a newly minted millionaire who made his fortune one of the more diabolical ways: investing in pharmaceuticals. It could be a vanity buy, but SHIELD suspected something more nefarious. The vineyard had a small luxury hotel on site and was hosting a four-day couples retreat for the holiday season. Clint and Natasha were to attend and gather information about Rose and his goals.

 

In character from the jump, Natasha swerved into the porte-cochère, nearly hitting a valet. “Why are you always the heiress and I’m always the tech bro?” Clint asked, his heart racing despite knowing she was entirely in control.

 

“Not always.” He raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes you’re the himbo.”

 

“Hello! Mr. and Mrs. Burton! Welcome to the Water Goat!” The eager valets, bell hops, and other hospitality types that swarmed the car and couple all spoke as if there was an exclamation point after every phrase.

 

“Hello!” Clint echoed while Natasha launched into a spoiled princess monologue that went from the accusation that the valet came too close to almost hitting her car to the demand that one of the ‘darling little reindeer in their darling little sweaters’ holiday decorations that lined the drive be sent to her room immediately.

 

“Not that one!” she screeched. “The blue one with the snowflake.” The hapless staff member replaced the eighth sized reindeer in the fake snow, picked up the one she indicated, and added it to their luggage carriage. Natasha grinned. “Oh, what a dear little deer!” She tugged on Clint’s sleeve. “Look at him!”

 

“Almost as cute as you.”

 

“Yes! I’ll get us matching sweaters!” Natasha pulled out her phone to shop online— and hack into any of the staffs’ or hotel’s tech within range. In their experience corrupt corporate executives kept their own phones, laptops, and what not super secure, but did nothing for their underlings. Meanwhile, half the staff argued over how to cover the blue-sweatered-reindeer hole in their holiday décor while the other half attempted to keep up with Natasha’s every whim. 

 

“Cocoa. With marshmallows and a candy cane.” She swiped and tapped her screen as if searching for the perfect Christmas sweater. “But on the plate not in the cocoa. I will stir it myself.” She looked up briefly at the young woman tasked with retrieving the drink. “Please,“ she said, her tone dripping with magnanimity. Clint hid a smile. The Natasha he knew had disappeared into her role.  It never failed to impress him. He hated everything about the vapid and vain bauble she was portraying and loved every facet of the complicated woman that veneer was hiding.

 

“You’ll be room forty-seven. Wait until you see the view!” The assistant concierge at the desk placed a small folder on the counter between them and started to go over all the details of their holiday. She described the room, facilities, map, key, tasting schedule, and holiday specials at the spa in the same bright voice all the staff used. It was disturbing. 

 

“And your wireless login. It’s specific to your room and is changed after each guest checks out.”

 

“That sounds mighty secure,” Clint said.

 

“Thank you!”

 

He flashed her a smile. “I’d love to hear more about your infrastructure, would the business manager—"

 

Beside him, Natasha stomped her feet. “Curt, we’re supposed to be on a romantic holiday!”

 

“Sorry, baby.” Clint leaned over to brush her lips. 

 

Placated, she moved away to speak imperiously to the bellhop. Her role was to be memorably awful just as his was to always be looking for an angle. Whatever questionably legal operation they were running here, his character wanted to invest. He picked up the folder and dropped a business card for Curt Burton’s infosec company. He slid it toward the front desk agent with a wink and joined Natasha.

 

“Are you sure she understood?” she murmured.

 

“No,” he answered in the same soft tone. “But the seeds are planted. And I’m certain the exchange was recorded.” His eyes slid upward to point out the small cameras hidden throughout the lobby. Natasha’s eyes narrowed and then she giggled loudly and hit his shoulder, playful, as if he’d whispered something naughty. Clint played along, tapped her bum, and caught her waist to pull her close. Her hip brushed his leg and he responded eagerly, then tensed.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

The change in her expression was infinitesimal, but spoke volumes.

 

Clint sighed. “This is the first time we’re fake married while, you know.”

 

“Real dating.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She laid her head on her shoulder, light and sweet and familiar. “We play it the same.”

 

He hit the call button for the elevator. “Yeah.”

 

Natasha glanced up to meet his eyes, her expression loud and clear again.

 

“It’s not the same,” he said.

 

“Don’t get weird on me, Barton.”

 

They’d always walked a careful line. She was better at it, and having dinner with her family went a long way to explain it. They both had difficult childhoods and learned to compartmentalize at a young age. But Clint’s foundation was abandonment. Natasha’s was the same unreality they were now caught up in. It was only natural she conflated her real feelings with her fake relationships. The elevator arrived with a ding. He dropped her waist and caught her hand to lead her through the doors.

 

A little girl, maybe eight, was inside. Her blonde hair was long and slightly tangled. She straightened when they joined her and waved. “Hello.”

 

“Hello,” Clint said, waving back.

 

“If you could have telepathy or super speed, what would you choose?”

 

He smiled. “That’s easy—"

 

“Telepathy,” said Natasha at the exact same time Clint said, “Super speed.”

 

The girl giggled. The elevator stopped at the third floor and the child ran out. Clint watched, bemused. Natasha raised an eyebrow as the doors closed and they continued up.

 

“What, she’s cute,” he said.

 

“Who brings a child to a winery?”

 

“A wine mom?”

 

Natasha frowned.

 

 

They were given a corner suite with a wall of windows overlooking the vineyard. The sitting room was small and sparsely furnished but the giant bath and luxurious bedroom made up for it. Their luggage preceded them and Natasha went right to work setting up security under the guise of flinging her many-too-many belongings for a four day stay all around the space. Clint removed his outerwear, kicked off his shoes, and conducted a visual inspection of their perimeter. 

 

It was nearly the shortest day of the year and the sun was already setting, creating a golden haze over the property. “Wow.”

 

“Nice view?”

 

Clint turned to find she’d removed the trappings of wealthy socialite Natalie Burton and stood barefoot beside the bed, purely Natasha. She was beautiful and dangerous and sexy as hell. “Yes,” he answered, staring at her with a look that would land him on the naughty list. She rolled her eyes with affection. “Do we have time for some roleplay?”

 

“Roleplay or foreplay?”

 

Clint’s naughty grin grew wider. “Yes.”

 

 

The hotel was small, less than thirty rooms, but fully booked for the occasion and the evening tasting was well attended. Clint and Natasha worked the room, collecting names and stories, corralling selfies to capture likenesses and recording interactions with hidden tech. They met influencers, CEOs of startups, and a couple retired military officers who claimed to know the Rose family. Any and all might be their mark, but the ones who traded in weapons seemed the most likely.

 

“Is it me or does this place give off Stepford Wife vibes?” The atmosphere was festive but the collective mood was odd. The emotions of staff and guests alike were strangely heightened and subdued at the same time.

 

Clint shrugged. “I think that’s just wine people.”

 

“No,” Natasha murmured. “This is weird.”

 

“Hello!”

 

The couple turned to grin brightly at the young woman who’d checked them in. Her nametag said ‘Poppy’. “Hello!” Clint echoed.

 

“Have you tried the rosé?”

 

“I’m not really a pink drink kinda man, but I’ll try anything for a pretty lady.”

 

Natasha pursed her lips. “Please pour us both a glass,” she commanded. Poppy poured two tasting glasses. Natasha lifted a glass, inspected the color, sniffed, and took the smallest of sips. Clint met her eyes over the rim and she blinked twice. No indication of poison. Satisfied he grabbed the second glass and sloshed back the drink in one go.

 

“That’s not bad,” he told Poppy, replacing the glass. “But I need something with a little more bite.” 

 

Natasha looked pained, embarrassed at her uncouth husband. “You could at least pretend to have a semblance of sophistication,” she hissed.

 

“I didn’t hear any complaints about my methods this afternoon.”

 

Poppy blushed. Natasha glared haughtily at both and spun on her heel so quickly her high pony tail slapped Clint across the cheek. She disappeared into the crowd.

 

“Sorry about that, dove,” Clint said, causing Poppy’s blush to deepen. “She can be a bit high strung.” Poppy answered with a nervous laugh. “Tell me something.” He leaned close. “Which of these hoity-toitys are regulars?”

 

Poppy pointed to a group of men across the room, the officers included. “Those are Mr. Rose’s partners.”

 

“Partners?” She nodded. “Perfect.” He dropped back. “Now you wrap up a case for me and the missus. Room forty-seven.” He suspected her contract involved some kind of commission and she deserved to be rewarded for the intel, and for putting up with their undercover shenanigans. Especially when he could charge it to SHIELD. 

 

“Thank you, sir!”

 

Clint winked and headed toward the partners.

 

The tasting morphed into a cocktail party that Clint and Natasha worked in their own ways. They then skipped the public dinner in order to reconvene in their room, debrief, and plot next moves. Natasha arranged for room service while Clint took a shower. There was a full cart of food when he emerged from the bathroom, warmer, calmer, and dressed down. Natasha was curled up in the loveseat reading a datapad and eating a dough triangle with a dark green center, a glass of wine and a bottle of water on the table beside her. He grabbed a roll and started peeking through the cart.

 

“I ordered one of everything on the dinner menu,” she explained. “Except pork.”

 

Clint grabbed a plate with steak and something orange — squash, pumpkin, sweet potato, whatever it was it smelled great. “What are you drinking?”

 

“The ‘winter blend’.” She gestured to three crates in a corner by the door. “Apparently you purchased a case of it. Along with the holiday red and ‘pink drink’ from Poppy.”

 

“These people act drugged.”

 

She lifted the datapad. “But there’s no evidence of anything in the wine.”

 

“Nothing we’ve seen before,” Clint countered. “So, I bought a selection for further analysis.” Natasha chuckled softly. Clint smiled over his steak. “Any luck getting close to Rose?”

 

The plan was to play the dissatisfied wife and lure him in. But she shook her head, absently fidgeting with the gold band on her left hand. “He never showed.” 

 

“Well, I got invited to an underground meeting tomorrow night.”

 

She sat up straighter. “Really?”

 

He nodded. “Big pitch, chance to be an investor.” 

 

“Impressive.” She tipped her wine toward him playfully.

 

“I can be.” He replaced the plate on the cart and dropped beside her. “You know, it was actually your Dad’s example that got me in.”

 

Natasha frowned. “Alexei?”

 

“Turns out slapping someone’s shoulder as hard as you can really garners respect.”

 

She snorted. “He’d be so proud.” Clint searched her face for the source of her wistful tone. She looked down at her hands. “What do they you want you to invest in?” 

 

“Dunno, but I’m supposed to leave you behind.”

 

Her head shot up. “It really is Stepford.” 

 

“Maybe.”

 

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a theory?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

She waited.

 

“You know I’m not really a himbo, right?”

 

Full throated laughter was the only response.

 

“Right?”

 

She grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him like he deserved. 

 

 

“Welcome, welcome, please take a seat.” Based on their research, Zane Rose was a typical middle aged business magnate with too much money and not enough conscience. The man inviting Clint into an underground secret meeting was also dressed like a cartoon villain. Clearly riffing on his name, Rose wore a deep red three piece suit. In his lapel was a gold pin shaped vaguely like a sword, the hilt a bejeweled Z. 

 

“You seeing this?” murmured. 

 

“Shh,” Natasha answered from the other side of the com hidden in his ear. “Yes, I’m in position.” She was perched in the vents above the room and had a view through the ceiling as well as the feed from Clint’s button camera. 

 

The meeting space was nondescript, the underground location and subsequent lack of windows the only thing unusual about it. The room was full of businessmen and in the center stood a handful of twentysomething men and women dressed in what looked like knockoff SHIELD uniforms. Rose moved to stand in the middle of them as the chatter died down and the presentation began.

 

“Thank you all for coming. Some of you have been with me from the beginning, others are new, but all are in for a treat. We’ve reached phase three.”

 

The announcement caused a stir. Clint sat back in his seat and gazed around the room, tried to discern old investors from new. 

 

“These five young people started the Capricorn regimen nine months ago.” He nodded to the five in uniform and they all snapped to attention. As one they tapped the back of their necks — Natasha took note of a small metallic circle that glowed in the low light —and then each morphed into something new. One woman lifted into the air. Beside her a young man’s skin turned metallic. Another man climbed up a wall and hung from the ceiling by his feet and a third became translucent. The young woman in the middle seemed to disappear only to pop up in five different corners of the room in the blink of an eye.

 

“Superspeed,” Natasha murmured, remembering the child. She prayed none of the mutated had telepathy or Clint was in trouble. But no one mentioned his deceit or her presence so she assumed they were safe. Or as safe as they could be in this situation. 

 

Mr. Rose went over the protocol and their plans for phase 4. Clint’s button cam recorded everything. They had more soldiers ready to start the regimen, additional ideas for mutations, only a handful of failed specimens. Natasha fumed. 

 

The crowd erupted into applause when the presentation ended. Clint stood along with the rest and shook Rose’s hand, verbally agreeing to invest. 

 

“You’ll receive a packet tomorrow with your contract, specs and the pertinent details.”

 

“Looking forward to it.” Rose smiled. “I do have one question, though.”

 

“Shoot.”

 

“How’d they get chosen? Does it work on anyone?”

 

“That’s two questions.” They shared a laugh. Rose shook his head. “No. It does not work on everyone. I screen them with a special formula, a kind of sedative, to determine the best candidates.” The Stepford wine, Natasha thought. “The basic requirements will be included in your packet.”

 

“Great.” They clasped hands one more time and Rose turned and walked away. Clint made his way toward the exit; the room emptied quickly.

 

“Black market mutant powers.” He shivered. “This is a much bigger problem than I expected.”

 

“Shh. We’ll talk in the room.” She’d made it secure.

 

Clint grunted and disappeared into the hall. Natasha pulled back from her hiding spot to the empty corridor on the opposite side, dropped silently to the floor and crept quickly back the way she came.

 

“Hello.”

 

Natasha started. The girl seemed to appear out of nowhere. Natasha recognized her from the elevator. “What are you doing down here?”

 

“I live here. You’re sneaking.”

 

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “You live underground.”

 

“That the kid?” Clint asked over the coms.

 

“Yes.”

 

“I knew it.” Natasha frowned. “Bring her.” She heard the click that indicated he’d signed off. Natasha pursed her lips and turned back to the girl. Slowly she brushed her hair behind her ear to show the child the small com nestled inside it. “My friend,” she explained.

 

“From the elevator.”

 

She nodded. “His name is Clint. I’m Natasha.” SHIELD would frown on using their real names with an unknown civilian anomaly— and Dreykov would expect her to shoot the kid— but Natasha wanted her to trust them. She held out a hand. The girl grasped it and they shook.

 

“Olivia.”

 

“Would you like to join us for dinner?” Olivia hesitated. “In our room.” Natasha suspected the girl had free reign but only as long as she didn’t stay anywhere long enough for someone to wonder to whom she belonged, or why she was at a winery at Christmas dressed in threadbare clothes. “It’s safe,” she assured her. Olivia decided she was trustworthy and agreed to go with her.

 

They ordered in again. The kid hid until the server left and Natasha’s security field was replaced, but then she attacked the food. Clint and Natasha made it clear she could have as much as she wanted. She’d probably been eating whatever she could scrounge from the kitchen and dining area. It was better than living on the streets but still not a well-balanced diet.

 

Olivia explained she’d been there nearly a year now. Her parents died in a car crash and she went to live with a cousin. “He’s the one who brought me here.”

 

“And he left you?” Clint asked.

 

She shook her head. “He’s one of them now.”

 

Clint and Natasha shared a look over her head. Clint had guessed there was more to the kid’s elevator query than met the eye. Her presence outside the secret mutant meeting confirmed it. But he hadn’t counted on phase three, on the protocols already being in play.

 

“We need to tell SHIELD.”

 

Natasha frowned. “What do you think they’ll do with them?”

 

“I don’t know.” He knew she was thinking of her past and he wished he could banish the look in her eyes. But if she wasn’t thinking clearly, he had to. “But we can’t leave them here. We can’t let them make more—"

 

“Are there more?” Natasha asked Olivia. She nodded. “How many?”

 

“I don’t know.” She didn’t say ‘sorry’ but Natasha heard it. “It doesn’t work on everybody. Some of them died.”

 

Natasha touched her shoulder to comfort and Olivia threw herself at her, suddenly shaking with all the sorrow and fear she’d held in for months. Startled but understanding, Natasha closed her arms around the girl and held her close until she cried herself to sleep. She picked her up and tucked her into the bed. 

 

“будь в безопасности, малыш,” she whispered and kissed the top of her head.

 

Clint sat on the floor at the bottom of the bed, his back against the mattress. Natasha dropped beside him, spent.

 

“We have to stop them Nat.”

 

“I know. But I don’t trust SHIELD.”

 

“We can’t do this just the two of us. Steal the tech, destroy the lab, maybe. But they have five super powered possibly mind controlled mutants. At least.” There were too many variables not to bring them in.

 

“With an off switch on their neck. You could subdue them with a shot.”

 

“What if I damage it? I don’t want to do more harm…” One of them was the kid’s cousin. All of them were somebody’s family. “Anyway, it’s a gamble.”

 

“Not if we’re strategic,” she argued. “Take out superspeed first, and invisible—"

 

“What about the guy made of metal? He’s a living shield.”

 

Natasha chewed her lip. “Maybe we do it while they’re sleeping.”

 

“Nat.” She met his eyes. “I’m good but—"

 

“You’re great.”

 

His lips quirked. Unexpected high praise from her. “I’m the best.”

 

“We’re the best.”

 

Her eyes twinkled and they shared a smile despite it all. He reached over to cup her cheek. “Yeah, we’re the best. And I still don’t want to risk Rose making you his next experiment.” His eyes were wide with concern, fear even, at what that could mean for her. 

 

She breathed slow, soft, and deep. His hand was warm against her skin. “That’s sweet, but—"

 

“No, it’s smart. You know I’m right. We can’t do this alone.”

 

Natasha huffed, annoyed because she did know he was right. She pulled her lips in over her teeth and made a choice. “Maybe SHIELD isn’t our only option for help.”

 

 

The Bishop fortune was frozen, but Kate had access to a trust in her name. She had the capital to lease a farm in the middle of nowhere California, and to rent a truck to move however many mutant refugees they found. Melina made a list of lab supplies and equipment she’d need to work out a process to reverse the mutation safely. Kate, Alexei, and Yelena used the list to surreptitiously reroute shipments of the items she needed from various nearby universities. While Melina set up a lab on the farm, Alexei drove the truck to the outskirts of the winery and met up with Natasha and Clint.

 

The plan was to discreetly capture the five mutants before they had a chance to activate their powers, and transport them unconscious to the farm. Olivia lived down below so long she knew where all the security was based. Yelena scrambled the cameras and subdued the guard closest to their quarters. Through stealthy coordination Hawkeyes and Black Widows were able to capture Superspeed, Invisibility, Metal Man, and Flight simultaneously, and trapped their hands so they were unable to reach the buttons on the back of their necks. 

 

The Wall-Climber, who they’d deemed the weakest, was able to activate and very nearly freed a couple of the others. Alexei drew him into a game of cat and mouse while the others snapped specialized neck braces on the first four. The braces contained the tech and knocked them out with an electromagnetic pulse. Alexei’s strategy worked, but was in no way stealthy, or quiet.

 

“This is not discreet!” Natasha complained.

 

“Are you surprised?” Yelena countered.

 

The elder sister shrugged agreement and together they raised their arms and zapped Wall-Climber with their stingers. The direct hits caused him to bolt upright and fall off the ceiling, into Alexei’s waiting arms. Clint snapped the fifth neck brace onto the fallen mutant and they all took a breath.

 

“Impressive.” The team whirled around to find Zane Rose slowly clapping. “Klaus said I should consider working with the Russians. I was against it, but you all are an excellent advertisement for what’s possible.”

 

Alexei rushed toward the CEO-slash-supervillain with a roar but he blinked out of sight. 

 

“Ah ah,” Rose taunted as reappeared behind the Red Guardian and pressed his hand to Alexei’s back. Bright lightning briefly flashed and Alexei fell forward in shock, conscious but unable to move. 

 

The others leapt into action. Natasha and Yelena ran to stand between Rose and the downed Alexei while Clint tried to hit Rose with a net arrow and Kate cut off his exit. Unfortunately, their quarry popped in and out of the battle in the blink of an eye. He was able to snatch Yelena off her feet and throw her into Clint. Natasha signaled for Kate to get out and call SHIELD then scrambled toward her sister. The younger archer disappeared into the ceiling. 

 

Natasha danced around Rose, dodging his attacks, and successfully grazed his cheek with a well-placed baton hit. She was able to pull Yelena to her feet, but as she held out a hand to Clint, Rose popped into sight behind her and pinned her arms to her torso. He held her close, one hand crackling with the same energy he’d used to paralyze Alexei, the other curled tight around her neck.

 

“Stand down,” he shouted to Yelena and Clint. Clint stood and raised his hands, Yelena a second behind. “Good.” Rose nodded for his henchmen to cover the others and forced Natasha forward and out the tunnel into the moonlight. Rose caught sight of the truck with its trailer open and surmised they planned to steal his mutant minions. “Interesting plan, where were you going?” 

 

Silence met his question and Natasha made a point to not even move. “Never mind, I appreciate the cover.” It was a bit embarrassing his supers failed their first real battle. But he could sell that they lured the Russians in and captured them in turn. The fake heiress was an especially classy prize, she’d had his people quaking before they even knew she was a spy. And given the rosé had no affect on her or her husband, they were both candidates for the regimen. High on his success, Rose ordered his henchmen to pile the five downed mutants and his prisoners into the truck. 

 

“Our people, too? Tied up?”

 

“They failed me. They need to be punished.” 

 

Natasha struggled against him and he tightened his grip. “Ah ah. Don’t worry, you’re all too valuable to kill.” He kicked at Alexei, Yelena, and Clint; their hands now tied behind their back. “These three will tell me everything. And you...” He pressed his fingers into her neck, enough pressure to leave a mark but not quite knock her out. “You will be my favorite toy.”

 

Clint tensed. He wanted to attack, but Natasha was signaling him not to. She leaned into Rose’s grip and spat into his face. He laughed. “I think poison blood. Make you a real Black Widow.”

 

Alexei, Clint, and Yelena were piled into the truck along with the still unconscious mutants. Alexei grunted, finally regaining feeling in his limbs, but still not able to mount an attack. 

 

Clint felt small hands working on his binds. “Kate?”

 

“She’s up top.” He recognized Olivia’s quiet voice, remembered she’d been waiting in the truck. His hands freed, he glanced to Yelena. She nodded understanding. He turned to release Alexei while Olivia worked on Yelena.

 

“Alexei?”

 

“Fight is difficult,” he said in a low growl. “I will drive.”

 

Clint nodded agreement and crept to the back of the truck to remove a panel in the roof. Outside, Rose was still taunting Natasha and she was still refusing to respond. He pulled himself up onto the roof and Kate handed him a bow and quiver.

 

“SHIELD is twenty minutes out.”

 

He nodded and gestured for her to create a perimeter around their enemy. They moved into position, chose their arrows, and raised their bows. 

 

Kate flooded the space around Rose and Natasha with arrows that exploded, bounced, spat out tiny projectiles, and turned into nets. Surprised and distracted, Rose loosened his grip on Natasha and instantly she pulled away and up, cartwheeling over his shoulders so they switched places and she had his neck in her hands. He tried to blink away but however he maneuvered she was in the way and he was unable to activate the tech. 

“Ah ah,” she said and spun him around, exposed the glowing circle in the back of his neck to Clint whose arrow hit the direct center. Sparks flew and Rose gurgled, pitched forward barely conscious, and slammed to the ground. Natasha met Clint’s eyes and he lowered the bow.

 

“We’re gonna be swarmed with bad guys and SHIELD agents!” Kate shouted. Car lights flickered on the other side of the winery. An alarm rang loud in the distance and there may have been a dog barking. Kate and Clint jumped down and they all scrambled into the truck. 

 

“Alexei?” Clint called.

 

“Ready,” he answered from the front of the truck, grinning through the window to the back. Clint hit the wall to acknowledge him and turned to Natasha.

 

“You’re good?” she asked.

 

He smiled. You would never know a psychopath threatened her life and worse just minutes before. She was, as always, worrying about everyone else.

 

“We got this. Get them to safety.” He leaned over for a quick kiss and dashed into the dark, Kate at his side. Alexei pulled out and zoomed away from the building.

 

“Oy, you don’t want to kill us now!” Yelena shouted to her father and slithered through the window to the cab to keep him on track. 

 

Natasha approached Olivia, sitting beside her cousin, the Metal Man, who looked very young and all flesh now. “Is he okay?” the child asked, her fingers fidgeting with the zipper on her coat. “Can you fix him?”

 

“We’re going to try.”

 

Olivia nodded. Natasha leaned over and released the caught zipper. Olivia dropped her hands and Natasha carefully zipped the jacket closed.

 

Olivia raised her chin to meet Natasha’s gaze. “He’s a jerk but he’s all I’ve got.”

 

Natasha put her arms around the girl and she crumbled into the embrace. Alexei spied the interaction in the rear-view mirror and smiled. 

 

The confusion at the winery, as the sun rose and staff, guests, and SHIELD agents crowded the hotel, was enough to hide Alexei’s exit. With the mutants safely hidden on the farm, they trusted SHIELD to take over the winery, detox the guests, save the victims that hadn’t mutated, and clean up the mess. 

 

Clint reported to SHIELD. He explained he’d called in Kate to play his daughter because Natasha had a family emergency. The be-sweatered reindeer, three crates of wine, and evidence of a pillow fort in the bed helped sell her as a younger agent on her first big undercover assignment. The hotel staff described Curt’s companion as mean, demanding, and unreasonable and frankly, the officers tasked with debriefing Kate agreed. The ploy worked and the full truth was hidden.

 

On the farm, the mutants were released from their bond and allowed to wake but kept in a safe room separate from the family and secure from the outside. Melina explained her hopes to remove the tech and reverse the process. Generally they were receptive, especially Olivia’s cousin. He’d wanted to be strong, special, not a freak. Yelena and Natasha double checked all the security around the farm. Clint and Kate would be back in the morning and they’d figure out next steps then. 

 

“Something you want to tell me?”

 

“What?” Yelena looked pointedly at the ring on Natasha’s left-hand finger. “Oh. It’s our cover. We were fake married.”

 

Yelena pursed her lips. Natasha rolled her eyes.

 

Yelena pointed to Alexei and Melina, standing beside the barn and arguing with great affection. “Like they’re fake married?”

 

“It’s just a cover.” She rubbed her thumb over the band. 

 

“Uh huh.”

 

Natasha shot her a look to drop it. Yelena put up her hands in acquiescence and walked off to join the others. Natasha took a breath and followed. 

 

“I can’t say how long this will take.” Melina was intrigued by the problem. ‘Mutant’ was not an explicitly correct label for their guests given they had been altered with a combination of injections and technology. Thus far they were patient and cooperative but science was messy and slow. “I worry for the girl.”

 

“Olivia?” Natasha shook her head. “She’s tough.”

 

Melina nodded. “That is why I worry.” She gazed at her elder daughter with compassion and wisdom. Melina was tough, and so was Natasha. That will was their greatest strength, but also what kept them from the ease of human connection.

 

Natasha squared her shoulders. “What do you suggest?”

 

Alexei grinned.

 

Natasha gazed up at the sign over the entrance, Welcome to the Happiest Place on Earth. “I can’t believe they talked me into this.”

 

Clint chuckled. To be honest, he couldn’t either. “Hey, every little girl deserves to be princess for a day.”

 

She turned, an atypical vulnerability plain on her face. Clint reached for her hands. “I don’t want to turn into my parents.”

 

“They’re turning into you.”

 

“We’re forcing her to live a lie.”

 

“First of all, she wants to play pretend. She’s excited.” Natasha frowned. “You’re her hero, Nat.” Her frown deepened and she pulled away. It was worse if Olivia was playing along with their family fantasy to be more like her, to garner her approval and affection. Clint sighed. “Second of all, she’s a missing kid and we want her to stay that way.” They all agreed they didn’t want to hand Olivia over to the system, and none of them would be allowed to foster her legally.

 

“Yelena scrambled her image,” she argued. “She doesn’t need to live a fake life—”

 

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova,” Clint said in his best parental voice. 

 

Natasha glared up at him. “You’re enjoying this,” she accused.

 

“Yes! It’s Fantasyland! It’s supposed to be fake.” He took her shoulders and turned her around to look at Olivia, Kate, and Yelena working out some kind of elaborate ‘cool aunt’ handshake. “She wants a family.” 

 

Natasha realized he could be talking about any of the three girls. Maybe it was reason enough for the lie. She glanced up to meet his eyes. “I’m not wearing mouse ears.”

 

“You are absolutely wearing mouse ears.”

 

“Mommy!” Natasha startled as two small arms circled her waist and the combined weight of the label and the girl nearly knocked her over. Yelena grinned at her sister over the top of Olivia’s head. “Can I be called Olive today?”

 

Natasha turned her eyes to the child, her hopeful expression so much like Yelena’s at that age. “It’s up to your father,” Natasha said and Yelena’s grin grew somehow wider. 

 

Olivia turned to Clint. He reached out and tapped her nose. “I think it’s perfect.”