Hill didn't check to see if Natalia was following, just continued purposefully down the corridor.

It felt like a betrayal to leave Clint alone. There hadn't been any point in giving him false reassurances; she didn't know the right words, and even if she had, she would have been lying to him. She couldn't pull him out of the interrogation. Still, she felt drawn to wait in the hallway. She took a step back toward Coulson and the interrogation room.

Coulson gave her a stern expression, snapped his fingers once and pointed sharply down the corridor. She bristled with indignity at the gesture; nobody had ever dismissed her with that level of careless disregard.

"She took a left," Coulson called. When she looked back, Hill was gone.

Defying orders and causing a scene wouldn't be supporting Clint. It would only reinforce the Council's belief that he was wrong to bring her in. As much as she hated it, Natalia knew the best option was to do as they asked.

She gave Coulson a final disgruntled sneer and went to find Hill. She wasn't in the next hallway, but she caught a shadow turning the corner ahead.

She could call for Hill to wait, but that implied Hill was in control, and she absolutely wasn't. Natalia kept running, slowing to a brisk walk as she rounded the corner and drew even with Hill. She still didn't look at Natalia, just maintained her pace down the hallway.

"Try and keep up. You aren't my only appointment today."

Appointment? That's all she and Clint were, appointments on Hill's calendar, boxes to tick on the way to Deputy Director? Fury and Garner and Coulson - especially Coulson - were putting in an astounding number of hours and effort attempting to help. She wasn't worth any of it, but Clint was, and if Agent Hill couldn't contribute to the team effort to clear him of suspicion, maybe Natalia owed her an attitude adjustment.

But she was supposed to be working with Hill, and at least putting up the pretense of cooperation. She decided to let the comment slide. Just this once.

Their interrogation room turned out to be a small conference room, leather chairs and a long polished table with a coffee maker and a selection of bagels at one end, and a stack of files in the middle.

Hill moved to the coffee maker and started the coffee, then laid out two paper plates from the stack by the coffee cups. Natalia took it as permission and joined her.

"Wasn't sure if Barton remembered to feed you," Hill said without looking at her, occupied instead smearing butter on a bagel. "I didn't see you in the cafeteria this morning."

Natalia almost rolled her eyes at the tactics, the desperate little nuances that were Hill's attempts at exuding superiority; not bothering to make eye contact, taking shots at Clint, the implication that this entire appointment was a waste of time.

Still, Clint had asked her to try.

"Thanks," she said, as she and Hill took seats opposite from each other. Hill pulled a file and shuffled the papers inside.

"You should address me as Ma'am or Agent Hill," she replied. Her tone suggested that Natalia should try again.

Well, she had made an effort. Clint couldn't fault her for that. Two asinine comments in five minutes was a little much, however, so surely he'd understand.

Natalia arched a brow and licked cream cheese from her fingers.

"Thanks, Maria."

That earned her Hill's full attention. She pushed her chair back and drew her sidearm as she stood, and now things were going to get interesting.

Natalia smiled slowly and braced her hands against the table, ready to use the momentum to get the drop on Hill. If she wanted a fight, Natalia wouldn't disappoint. If Hill managed to land a hit, she might actually do her the courtesy of sticking Agent in front of her name.

"Up," Hill barked at her. She kept the gun held loosely at her side, more insurance than because she meant to use it, if Natalia had to guess. Hill was clearly accustomed to having agents jump at her orders, so Natalia reconsidered her play, leaning back against her chair and taking a leisurely bite of bagel.

Hill strode around the table and hauled her up by the arm, swung her toward the door, and marched her out.

Natalia let her, more curious than worried. She maintained an air of polite interest because the calm indifference seemed to irk Hill; Natalia watched her lips twitch, as if she was muttering soundlessly to herself.

Maybe Hill deserved her promotion, or maybe she was just an incredibly talented ass-kisser. Either way, respect was earned, not demanded. Natalia didn't stomp around S.H.I.E.L.D. ordering everyone to call her Agent or Black Widow. Not yet, anyway. And Hill had a hell of a long way to go before Natalia even considered addressing her as ma'am.

They came to a pair of reinforced steel doors, and she felt the first faint stirring of apprehension. Maybe she'd miscalculated how far Hill was willing to go.

Hill holstered her gun and swiped her badge through the keypad beside the door, but kept a firm grip on Natalia's arm. The corridor beyond was uncomfortably familiar, rows of identical steel doors and agents with rifles and protective gear standing at intervals against the wall.

She felt a little sick, anxiety wrenching her gut, as she imagined Clint coming out of his interrogation and tracking her to another containment cell. What if Natalia was gone by the time he found her, lost to the Black Widow? It worked like that sometimes, a place or a person triggering something in her head, flipping a switch, and the containment cell certainly qualified. Clint couldn't beat her in hand-to-hand again.

"I need a cell," Hill announced. The guards stood a little straighter, hoisted their rifles a little higher.

"Seven's empty, Ma'am," the closest guard spoke up. Natalia scoffed at that, despite the wave of panic building in her chest. Hill jerked her toward the empty cell.

She was in too deep now, of course she wouldn't take the blow to her pride and ask to go back to the conference room, but it suddenly didn't seem like such an affront to be asked to give Hill a conciliatory Agent and read the files on the table.

Hill swiped her badge again and pulled the cell door open. The room was empty, blank white walls and a security camera in the corner.

"Until you decide to cooperate," Hill said, and gave her a shove. Her fear dropped away all at once at Hill's words.

Natalia spun and curled her lips into a sneer, just in time for Hill to slam the door in her face, but it hardly mattered. The punishment wasn't calculated or deliberate; it wasn't meant to be psychologically unsettling. Deputy Director Agent Ma'am had put her in a time-out. Undignified, sure, but the concept was laughable. Hill would give up the exercise long before she did. If she had to guess, the encounter wouldn't stretch any longer than the end of Clint's interrogation.

Hill wouldn't want to seem incompetent. She wouldn't want Fury to know she had immediately bypassed negotiation in favor of punishment; she'd want Fury to think she was capable of gathering intel efficiently. For Hill, dealing with her this way was a time-sensitive inconvenience, while her only alternative to sitting in the containment cell was sitting in her quarters.

Hill would break first, especially if the assignment was some sort of test from Fury. A final demonstration of her skills as an agent, win over the Black Widow and gather intel. The last boost her resume needed to lock down the promotion. It was going to be an interesting morning.

Natalia settled on the floor to wait, back pressed against the wall opposite the door. She could hear a murmur of voices in the corridor, indistinct, but didn't make an effort to eavesdrop.

Half an hour passed, the hallway gone silent. Maybe Hill was watching the camera, waiting for her to wave or signal that she was ready to talk. She lifted one hand and gave the camera her middle finger.

Another half hour, give or take, and the imagined images of Hill fuming as she watched the security feed ceased to be entertaining. Now she was just bored, restless, her thoughts drifting unbidden back to Clint and that half second of hesitation he'd showed before stepping into the interrogation room.

This wasn't being a very good friend. Not that she had any experience at all having a friend, but she felt certain she should be waiting in the corridor when his interrogation was over, not waiting for him to come pull her out of another containment cell. She should have cooperated, given Hill whatever information she wanted, and gotten through the interview quickly enough to go back and find Clint.

The soft drone of conversation was back, breaking her train of thought. The lock clicked and the door swung open, and here was her chance. Before she could speak, Hill broke the tense silence.

"Apologize, and we can go back upstairs," Hill said in greeting. She was smug, as if she expected an uneventful hour in a cell to be effective punishment.

Nope.

It had been a nice thought, to selflessly abandon her pride and play Hill's game to help Clint. Maybe he would appreciate the idea of the gesture, maybe it would be enough that she intended to be standing in the corridor waiting for him.

"Well?" Hill added, an impatient, expectant edge to her tone.

"Is this a covert government agency or a preschool?" Natalia retorted. "Time-outs don't get results, Agent Ma'am."

Hill scowled at that, took a step into the cell.

"You'd talk, if I was sanctioned to use real interrogation techniques."

"I won't tell if you don't," Natalia offered, a smirk tugging her lips. She had won this round.

Hill seemed to realize the mistake in letting on exactly how far she could go. She sneered and swept from the cell, slamming the door behind her.

A little disappointing. They were at a stalemate already. Natalia could snark and provoke Hill as much as she wanted, but Hill wouldn't jeopardize her promotion by overstepping her authority; she was too smart for that. Natalia certainly wasn't going to give Hill the apology she wanted. She was stuck in the cell until Clint came for her.

If Clint came for her.

It was a traitorous thought, after all of the punishment Clint had endured for bringing her in, but it stuck in the back of her mind nonetheless. He had already abandoned her once.

She had accepted his apology - she couldn't really fault him for losing patience and growing frustrated - but the understanding didn't mend the fissures he'd rent in the trust she had for him. He could have the benefit of the doubt, but she'd be careful going forward to have her own backup plan.

Which, at the moment, consisted of waiting for Clint to bail her out of the containment cell. Plan B could use some work.

Not quite an hour this time, and she heard voices in the corridor, the click of the lock rolling back. Things winding down with the Council, pushing Hill's timeline?

"Take a break," Hill said as she pushed the door open. "I won't need backup."

The guards moved off, quiet footsteps and the shuffle of rifles. Natalia felt her interest spark at Hill's new overconfidence; it would be entertaining to shut her down again.

"Barton's interrogation should be over soon," Hill said. She leaned against the stretch of wall beside the door, arms crossed, wearing the same stupid smug grin Natalia had wiped off her face an hour ago.

A cheap tactic, playing on her relationship with Clint. Was that the trump card? Natalia stared at the opposite corner of the cell rather than rewarding Hill with the attention she wanted.

"Coulson told me you're attached," Hill added when she didn't reply, and there was something teasing about the words, an implication that had her hackles up and a retort on the tip of her tongue. She bit it back, although the effort made her resolve waver dangerously. "So let's try this a different way. You don't see Barton again until I'm satisfied with the outcome of our interview.

"The results of his interrogation, his reasons for going to Medical, his next appointment with the Council, that's all privileged information now, and you're not privileged. You'll stay here until I say otherwise."

She looked sharply up at Hill, studied her expression, her body language, trying to determine if she was bluffing. Clint had warned her that Hill was good at her job. She couldn't really tell if Hill was feeding her lies or not, but something about the words rang true, given what she knew about the Council and their methods.

And it had been two hours already. She wasn't sure how long a session with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s lie detector was supposed to last, but Hill didn't seem in a hurry to move things along. Clint wouldn't just sit around waiting for Hill to return her, either. He'd come looking if his interrogation was over.

No, something had gone wrong, it wasn't only a game between her and Hill anymore. Fury's influence hadn't been enough to keep the interrogation civil. Clint had let something slip, earned himself another round with the Council, and he was hurt.

The grey hallway with its glass doors and cloying antiseptic smell stuck in her mind, and her breath came a little quicker. She would have to search for Clint there, a risk.

A trap? Lure her into the medical wing? Why bother when Hill already had her conveniently in a cell?

She pushed herself up, palms pressed flat against the wall to stop her hands clenching into fists.

"Why is Barton going to Medical?"

Hill arched one eyebrow.

Something white-hot and malignant began to claw its way into her chest.

"What did you let them do?"

She was careful to keep the words soft and neutral, but Hill knew anyway. Natalia watched her grin grow wider.

"You're asking the wrong questions." Hill replied. "Try 'Can we resume our interview please, Agent Hill?'."

The interview was over. Natalia charged, and Hill stood frozen a half-second too long, watching with wide eyes instead of preparing to counter.

She tackled Hill to the floor, rolled and pinned her, had one arm around her throat and the other hand poised to snap her neck before reason caught up with instinct.

She'd ruin her second chance before it even started. And Clint….

Fuck Barton.

But the deplorable sentimentality still had her repositioning her hold, because Barton would be disappointed if she murdered Agent Ma'am in the containment cell. A disgusting weakness, and Barton was an asshole.

The shift in technique cost her. Hill twisted and squirmed, clawed at her forearm exactly where Barton had sutured the cut from the broken glass, drew a leg up and kicked the spot where the tranquilizer arrow had stuck in her thigh.

Another cheap tactic. Natalia shoved her away and rolled back to her feet with a sneer.

Hill scrambled up and took a defensive stance, backing slowly toward the door. Natalia let her think she'd make it, and she watched Hill's lips pull up into a smirk as she drew closer to the safety of the corridor.

Hill was skilled, and she wasn't afraid to exploit every emotional weakness and physical injury Barton had inflicted over the past week. But Natalia was faster.

She charged again, caught Hill in the chest with her shoulder and slammed her back against the wall. A kick to the knee, solid punch to the gut. Hill slid down, winded and gasping. Natalia gripped the front of her shirt, dragged her up, and pressed her into the wall again.

"Where's Barton?"

Hill only glared back, defiant despite the pain written behind her eyes.

There was someone monitoring the security feed, the guards would come back. She was on borrowed time already. She drove her knee into Hill's stomach, crouched beside her while she doubled over on the floor.

"Where is Agent Barton?"

Still no answer, but Natalia heard something else, a sharp buzz and crackle, and her leg was on fire.

It was an intuitive fear that made her back off, although she was more surprised and indignant than hurt. Hill leapt at her, suddenly recovered, brandishing the same model of taser Barton had threatened her with.

Of course Hill knew how to take a punch. Of course she had scoured the past week's security footage for an exploit. This was why she hadn't wanted the guards in the hallway.

Did Fury know his protege fought dirtier than any of the Red Room girls? Did Barton expect her not to retaliate?

She disarmed Hill with a move that would have broken her arm, if she wasn't still dialing down the force of her attacks, but the damage was done. She was off, rattled, stuck between tempering her skills and giving herself over to the impulse to tear Hill apart for ever daring to try and control her the same way her handlers had, with fear and borrowed power.

Hill took advantage, pressing forward, delivering a barrage of jabs and kicks that left her no choice but to block and back off. There were openings, but Natalia didn't trust herself to take them, didn't trust herself to stop attacking if she got through Hill's defenses.

She only needed to dodge away, slam the door and lock Hill in the cell, buy enough time to disappear and find Barton. Better than letting the fight stretch indefinitely.

She allowed herself one hit, a halfhearted punch to the face that probably wouldn't even bruise. Hill staggered back and Natalia lunged for the door, eyes on the empty corridor.

She would check the interrogation room first, then the medical wing. They wouldn't stand a chance of catching her once she was clear of the Containment level; she was too skilled at blending into crowds, and the S.H.I.E.L.D. base was perpetually crowded-

Hill grabbed her from behind, fingers curling into the back of her shirt. Sloppy, Natalia chastised herself, once again distracted by thoughts of Barton instead of focusing on the fight at hand.

Natalia spun to break the hold and land another punch. Hill was hoping she'd turn and fight, she realized too late to dodge; Hill slammed an elbow to the side of her head and pushed her to the floor.

Her vision blurred white with pain, but she could sense Hill standing over her. She said something, the words far off and muffled, and pushed the toe of her boot into Natalia's side.

Every instinct screamed for her to retaliate. She rolled up on hands and knees and forced her eyes open, watched Hill collect the taser and head for the door.

She pushed herself up and made an unsteady attempt to reach the corridor; the cell swung to one side and she staggered, managed to recover. Hill didn't even look back.

"Still waiting for that interview," she called as she pulled the cell door closed, and Natalia hated the condescension in her tone.

She fell against the door, too late, a sick coil of anxiety settling in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't thought...hadn't even imagined it was possible….

She had lost the fight, something that hadn't happened in years. Granted, she hadn't been trying as hard as she could have, and Hill fought dirty, but she'd still lost. To Hill. And Clint...Clint was under interrogation, hurt, because of her, and she'd only managed to piss off Hill and make things even worse.

She slammed her fist into the door, but that didn't help, either. It only kindled the little traces of panic building in her chest.

She needed leverage, but Hill had all the advantages. Negotiation was out, she definitely wasn't giving Hill the satisfaction. She needed a weapon.

She shook out her hand and flexed sore fingers, studying the empty cell for an exploit. Nothing, save for the security camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling.

It hadn't been a very good plan the first time she thought of it, and it still didn't hold much promise, but if disabling the camera would get Hill back in the cell it was worth trying. She knew all of Hill's tricks now, and wouldn't lose a second time.

She spent long minutes judging the angle, until her head stopped throbbing, then backed into the corner of the cell opposite the camera. There was no knowing how securely it was mounted, but she only needed to pull a wire or two. One solid jump would do it.

She sprinted the short distance across the cell and leapt at the camera. Her ankle throbbed a protest and she knew the attempt was wasted, even before her fingers closed around nothing.

She landed in a sloppy crouch and sucked a breath through clenched teeth. This was the new Natalia? A week at S.H.I.E.L.D. and already losing her edge? Losing to Hill?

She pulled off her shoe and hurled it at the security camera. It felt better than punching the door, anyway. And…

The camera's position was off, just an inch or two. She pushed herself up and tried again, aiming this time. It felt stupid and undignified but it worked, and she kept at it until the camera was hanging by a tangle of wires.

The soft hum of conversation echoed in the corridor. She jumped again, caught the camera easily this time, pulled until it came free of the wires and she dropped back to the floor. Now she had a weapon.

The keypad beeped and the lock slid back. She weighed the camera in her hand and lined up the shot. Hill wouldn't even make it into the cell this time.

The door opened wide, Hill's confidence a convenient weakness. Natalia immediately flung the camera at her head and charged.

It was Director Fury who leaned smoothly to the side to avoid the projectile. She came up short, breathing hard and trying to mask her surprise while Fury studied her with an expression of incredulity.

"Put your damn shoe on," he snapped, and stepped back into the corridor.