Summary:
Natasha used to be a soldier, until one day she wasn't anymore. Nowadays, she works as a witness protection specialist and her boss, police chief Nick Fury, has a special assignment for her that will change her life.
Notes:
This was written for the Secret Santa exchange at be_compromised for my dear recipient findthesea/andibeth82. I went with the promp Accidental baby acquisition, BUT not in the fluff way and as findthesea/andibeth82 asked, I got creative with it :) I hope you like it, dearest giftee and have a wonderful Holiday Season!
This story was inspired by the German movie "Schutzengel" (Guardian Angel), but I decided to try a little role-reversal. If you have the chance to watch it, it is very much worth the time, a very solid action movie with great H/C moments and romance. So now you know what you're up for, I think :D
Title is taken from the song "Sum Of Our Parts" by Mary Lambert, which is lovely and totally screamed Clint and Natasha at me.
Heartfelt thanks to my wonderful betas sneakyhufflepuff and alphaflyer, as well as my lovely writing buddies crazy4orcas, sneakronicity, anuna81 and frea_o, who have been a tremendous help writing this fic. You are the best, I couldn't have done this without you and I love you all dearly!
Look How Bright We Are
The ringing of the phone interrupted her session with the punching ball.
"Natasha, I need you to do a job for me."
It was Nick Fury, New York City's Chief of Police, calling in a favor. Natasha Romanoff, retired soldier and witness protection advisor to the police, perked up as she heard her former Army commander's voice on the phone. "I'm listening."
"You've probably seen it on TV, Daniel Whitehall, CEO of HYDRA Holdings has been arrested on charges of killing Derek and Eleanor Bishop a year ago. We've worked for years trying to nail him; the bastard is more slippery than an eel. But this time we've finally got him, there was a witness. She's been with the US Marshals since the murder, but now she's our responsibility. She's being coached by the DA as we speak, but we need to keep her safe from Whitehall's crew, and we need the best to do so. We need you."
"When and where?"
xxxxxx
That was how, two hours later, Natasha found herself in the presence of fifteen-year-old Katherine "Kate" Bishop and two US Marshals in a bare apartment in the middle of the city. The place smelled of cold, mold and stale food; the paint peeling off the wall adding to the atmosphere of disrepair. But no one paid attention to their neighbors in this part of town and that was just what Natasha wanted from a safe house. In her experience, safety didn't come from numbers, but from blending in.
The Marshals left once Natasha and her charge were safely inside the apartment, wishing Natasha luck as they went. Kate immediately sought out the threadbare couch and turned on the ancient TV. She huddled in the corner, the hood of her purple sweatshirt pulled up over her dark hair. Natasha studied the girl in the dim light, assessing the job in front of her.
The kid's face was carefully blank; long fingers fiddled with the draws of the hood as she seemed intent on the movie playing on TV.
"Just a head's up, the kid's got a record," Fury had said. "Breaking and entering, stealing cars, got a knack for locks."
Natasha flexed her fingers, mirroring the girl's movement. She had been a pick-pocket herself at Kate's age, only she hadn't got caught until eighteen. When given the choice between jail and the Army, she'd chosen the latter. The Army had given her an opportunity to make something of herself, a purpose, and a family of sorts. She could see that determination to do the right thing in Kate too, especially with her decision to stand up against Whitehall.
'Good,' Natasha thought, 'a survivor. That will make the job easier. Once she trusts me.'
Her two Glock 26s, in their holsters under her jacket, scraped against her side as she walked over to the couch and sat down on the opposite end from Kate.
"What are you watching?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the TV screen.
"Nothing," Kate replied with a pout, acting like any other fifteen-year-old.
The girl picked up the remote and switched channels. She stopped on a round-the-clock news channel showing the arrest of Whitehall, his rise to power within his organization, the crimes he was suspected of committing. The list was near endless, but according to the report he was most certainly involved in trafficking in human beings, including organs, and arms smuggling.
Natasha turned to look at Kate, who was staring at the screen, transfixed as photos of her parents appeared. The reporter suggested that Derek and Eleanor Bishop had either been involved in Whitehall's dealings or had been about to expose him in the newspaper Derek Bishop had run. Kate's jaw set as the reporter went on to talk about her parents' involvement with Whitehall, which had allegedly led to their murder.
"I don't care what they say my parents did, I'm gonna make sure Whitehall will never get out again," the girl said, turning to Natasha.
The older woman caught her gaze. "And I'll make sure you'll get to make your deposition at his trial."
"He'll come for me now, more than ever. Mr. Barton, the ADA I talked to today, said that all the physical evidence is circumstantial. Whitehall's lawyer will make it all disappear." There was a quiver in her voice even as she looked defiantly at her bodyguard. "I can't, I won't let that happen. He needs to pay."
Natasha's heart beat faster. Clint was the ADA in this case? It had been years, but still... It didn't matter, she had a job to do; she couldn't dwell on old feelings now. So she took a deep breath and put all her conviction into her words.
"Yes. And that's what I'm here for. I will keep you safe."
"You better."
"Never doubt the Black Widow, kid."
Kate raised an eyebrow, "What kind of stupid nickname is that?"
Natasha smirked. "Help me make some dinner and maybe I'll tell you."
"So who gave you that stupid nickname?" Kate asked as they sat on the sofa after dinner, facing Natasha with curiosity.
"It was a friend. I was the only woman in a team full of guys, but my aim was better than all of theirs combined. So they took to calling me that. Because I'm small and deadly."
"How did you end up in baby sitting?"
"I was a soldier, until one day I wasn't anymore. One of my former bosses joined the police after he left the Army. Someone bad went after an important witness of his."
"So he asked for your help?"
"Yep. And it's not babysitting, it's witness protection."
"Yeah, whatever," Kate rolled her eyes. "So, you were a soldier? Were you ever in combat?"
Unbidden, pictures floated into Natasha's mind and she could almost feel the dry heat on her skin, smell the sand and baked rocks. She saw her friends Steve, Thor, Tony and Bruce before her mind's eye, the best backup you could wish for in battle. They'd called themselves 'Avengers' after the first of their friends, Bucky, had fallen in battle.
"Yes, I did three tours in Afghanistan and Iraq."
"What was it like?"
Hot, frightening, strange. "You don't really want to know."
"Yes, I do. I wouldn't have asked otherwise."
She couldn't tell her, lacked the vocabulary to describe the feeling of just wanting to survive. Wanting to see your loved ones one more time. Wanting to forget everything in your lover's arms. Clint had been her safe haven back then, just as much as she had been his.
"It's not something I talk about."
"Please? You want me to trust you but you won't trust me?"
"This has nothing to do with trust, kid."
That was the moment the door blew open and the bullets started flying.
xxxxxxx
Assistant District Attorney Clint Barton rubbed a hand over his neck as he studied his trial notes. Despite all the evidence against Daniel Whitehall, the trial hadn't gone smoothly so far. The other side had hired the most expensive and experienced criminal defense attorney in the state and, true to his nickname, Luke "Loki" Laufeyson had already spun some elaborate tales. Clint could see many of the jurors fall victim to his charm, which he had more than enough of. If only he could muzzle the pompous ass, then his life would be so much better.
Although he had to admit that today had actually been a good day. Kate Bishop really was a godsend as a witness.
She had walked into the meeting room a few hours earlier, head held high, her dark ponytail swishing from side to side as she mustered him from head to toe. Despite wearing his second-best suit and his favorite tie, the purple one with the arrows that had been a gift years ago, he'd felt judged and found lacking.
"You don't look like a guy who could put my parents' killer behind bars," Kate said at last.
"Looks can be deceiving and," here he had paused for effect, "sometimes it pays to be underestimated."
Her eyes had lit up inquisitively as she had tilted her head. "So you're good at what you do?"
"I always hit my target, yes."
"Well, good then." The girl had now stood right in front of him, and stabbed her finger at his chest while fixing him with a blue-eyed stare. "Because if you screw this up and the bastard walks, I'll personally kick your ass."
He'd grinned at that, his posture loosening up. "Alright, let's nail that son of a bitch, shall we?"
The next two hours had been spent going over Kate's testimony, preparing her for the defense's questions. Kate was smart and confident, possibly a little too much of both. He guessed it had something to do with growing up privileged and always getting her way. Pretty much the opposite of how he was raised, but people called him a smart ass too.
He sighed. Although his track record really was as good as he had told Kate, he wasn't sure how the trial would go. If Kate could make her deposition, he didn't doubt that the jury would return a guilty verdict. If anything was to happen to her before though, he wasn't so sure. Circumstantial evidence was only good for so much, as he'd learned in his career; with juries you needed witnesses. So far, Whitehall had always managed to evade justice as evidence got "lost" or witnesses disappeared. He had to have a mole somewhere in the DA's office or inside the police force, but for the life of him Clint couldn't figure out who that could be.
He reached for his phone and dialed the familiar number.
"Barton, what can I do for you?" Nick Fury's sonorous voice came through the phone.
"Is my witness safe?"
Clint had worked with Fury on numerous occasions, going back as far as Fury's time with Army CID and Clint's own stint with the JAG corps right after finishing law school. The Army had paid for his education in return for a few years of his service, a price he had been more than happy to pay. Some of his best memories were linked to that time.
His eyes involuntarily cut to the picture of him and his friends from back then that hung below his diploma. Steve and Thor to the right, laughing broadly, fair and towering over everyone; Tony and Bruce, dark and with their arms around each other's shoulder. Natasha, Sam, Carol and Clint in the middle of them all, their heads flung back in laughter. That was a good day, having just beaten another team at flag football. Good times.
He adjusted the volume on his hearing aid. His service had also been responsible for some of his worst memories.
"As safe as can be, under the circumstances. She's with my best protection specialist," Nick answered.
"I hope that person is as good as you think they are. I have a bad feeling."
Fury scoffed, "I don't blame you. There were a few too many convenient accidents around Whitehall for my taste."
There was no mistaking the sarcasm Fury put into the word accident. Clint couldn't fault him; there was no way that Whitehall's minions didn't have anything to do with most of them. He scrubbed a hand across his neck again.
There was a knock at his office door. "I gotta go. Just do what's possible for this girl. She's way too young to die."
"Will do."
Clint ended the call and said, "Come in."
The door opened on Clint's boss.
"How are we doing on the Whitehall trial?" District Attorney Alexander Pierce asked as he strode into the room, a genial smile on his lips.
xxxxxx
Instinctively Natasha grabbed her guns from their holsters when the door blew in. Kate's head whipped around to face the entryway, eyes large and her mouth open in a silent scream.
"Get down!" Natasha yelled at Kate as she pulled her down in front of the couch. It was paltry cover, but better than nothing.
A man appeared in the door, gun drawn. Natasha's bullet hit him square in the chest before he could fire off any shots of his own. As he fell, another took his place, aiming at the couch, forcing Natasha to flatten herself on top of Kate as she returned fire around the side of the couch. The man went down when she hit his leg, his yell of pain almost drowned out by the gunfire as a third goon entered the apartment. Kate's hands covered her ears and Natasha kept the girl down as she rose to a half crouch to aim at the new opponent.
She fired both her guns at the last man to enter. He fell, dead before he hit the ground.
The man on the floor used her temporary distraction to rise from his prone position and fire another shot. The bullet hit her in the side, the impact punching the air out of her lungs. She turned towards the shooter, emptying her magazine into his chest.
Covering the door, she made her way over to the attackers. She knew from experience that she should feel pain, would feel pain. But right now the adrenaline coursing through her veins had her buzzing with energy, her heart beating wildly, her vision hyper-focused, every sense straining to eliminate the threats to Kate's life. She checked the hallway; it was empty. Her side began to throb, a sharp ache with every breath. Then she made sure the goons would stay down. Three precise shots later she exchanged the spent magazines for new ones before crossing the short distance to Kate.
The girl lay still, her hands clamped over her ears. She jumped when Natasha touched her shoulder, swallowing a yell.
"We have to go," Natasha said softly. "Get up, keep your eyes closed and stay behind me. I'll get you out of here."
Kate did as she was told, clinging to Natasha like a limpet. They moved in unison, leaving the carnage of the room behind them. Natasha led the way, securing the corridor again when they reached the door. It was empty; people here apparently knew to stay inside and safe in case of gunfire. But no doubt someone had called the police. The only people who knew where Kate had been taken for safekeeping were with the police and the DA, someone must have told Whitehall. They had to get out and somewhere safe as soon as possible.
"You can open your eyes. Nothing but empty corridors now."
"Did you... are they dead?"
"Yes, but you didn't need to see that."
"I've seen my parents die."
"I know, kid. That's more than enough for one lifetime, I think."
Natasha opened the heavy fire door to the stairwell. It was as empty as the corridor had been. The stairs were torture on her side; the bullet seemed to move with every step. She stifled a groan as she clamped a hand over the wound, only to feel blood welling out of it in a slow but steady stream. She clamped a hand over it to stop the blood flow. She could already see spots dancing at the edge of her vision and her fingertips tingled. Only one more flight of stairs, then they would be out. Natasha squared her shoulders and brought her gun up again.
"There's probably someone waiting outside. Try to stay low and move fast."
"Okay," The girl's voice wavered and Natasha could feel the trembling where Kate she still held onto her shirt.
"Nothing will happen to you, I promise."
"Okay," the girl repeated.
Natasha opened the heavy fire door and sighted along her gun. She couldn't make out any immediate threats, so she pushed the door open further.
"Use the cars as cover," she instructed Kate before she moved out into the dim light of the cold November night.
"Natasha, look out!" Kate yelled and pointed to somewhere on the other side of the street.
The bullet hit the brick beside Natasha, spraying her with tiny bits of red stone. The pain in her side screamed at her when she ducked to find cover.
Peering between the cars she saw her assailant move on the other side of the street. She took a deep breath to calm her shaking hand and aimed for his chest, the biggest target area he offered. Her hand steadied as she focused, just like Clint had taught her once upon a time when he'd showed her how to shoot with a bow and arrow.
Clint. She hadn't seen him in years and for a moment she wished he was by her side. Then she released her breath and pulled the trigger. The bullet impacted the man's chest, just as she'd envisioned. He would not be a threat to anyone again. But if Kate hadn't warned her it could have all ended differently.
Natasha turned to check on Kate and pain shot through her abdomen. She groaned and clutched her side, feeling wet warmth flow over her fingers as her vision swam. Leaning against the car she'd used as cover she tried to catch her breath.
"Natasha!" Kate yelled and a moment later her small hand wrapped around Natasha's arm. "You need help. I'll call 911."
"No, you can't." She looked at Kate beseechingly as she breathed through the pain. "We don't know who gave away our safe house."
Realization dawned across Kate's face. She squared her shoulders. "Whatever. You need help. Damn, I need help. You can't protect me in the shape you're in."
An image flashed before Natasha's mind, one that had been lurking there for a while.
"I know where to go. But I'll need your help getting there."
xxxxxx
The frantic knocking at his door startled Clint from his almost-doze in front of the TV. Lucky barked once, rousing from his nap on the rug in front of the couch. Clint rubbed the sleep from his eyes and crossed the expanse of his living room to open the door.
"You?!" Kate Bishop looked up at him open-mouthed. "You're Natasha's Clint?"
She wasn't alone. Natasha had her arm slung across the girls shoulder, holding her side with her other hand.
"Hey," she smiled weakly at him, causing his stomach to drop to his knees.
"Tasha," he whispered, his heart hammering as he stood rooted to the spot.
Lucky whined beside him and nudged Natasha's leg. Clint just stared at her, noting the thin new scar on her brow, the little lines around her eyes that hadn't been there the last time he saw her. Her hair was longer, a brighter shade of red than before. She was back.
"Tasha," he said, louder.
"Ugh, can I get a little help here? She's hurt," Kate glared at Clint.
"Of course," he shook off his stupor and took a step forward.
He caught Natasha just as her eyes rolled back into her head. She was light in his arms and he felt the blood seep through his shirt where her side touched his skin. He gently laid her on his bed, glad that he had changed the sheets only a few days ago.
"What happened?" he asked Kate as he peeled Natasha's shirt from where it was stuck to her abdomen.
"The safe house was ambushed, there were four guys with guns. She saved me." The girl stood in the doorway, her hand on Lucky's collar.
Clint nodded sagely. No wonder Fury had thought Kate was as safe as possible. He inspected the wound; the bullet had entered on the lower left side of Natasha's abdomen. Turning her gently, he couldn't make out an exit wound.
"Did anyone follow you here?" he asked, thinking briefly about his own security measures.
"No, not that I noticed," the girl replied.
Clint had a very extensive intruder alert that his boss, DA Pierce, had insisted he install in case someone wanted to settle a grudge with the DA's office. He would need to activate it immediately.
"Kate, stay with her. I need to get my first aid kit and arm the alarm."
The term first aid kit didn't quite apply to the fully stocked field aid kit he always kept on hand. But with his past and his friends, it just paid to be prepared. Clint pulled on some sterile gloves before taking out the things he'd need.
"Are you a doctor as well as a lawyer?" Kate asked incredulously when she saw the supplies he'd spread out on the bed.
"Nope, but she never cared about that. You should wait outside, this may get messy."
"I'm not leaving her. I want to help," Kate said with determination.
"Fine, then get me some clean towels from the bathroom. It's right down the hall."
The girl turned, Lucky following on her heel and Clint started cleaning the area around the entry-wound with disinfectant. Natasha didn't rouse and he was glad for it. He could feel the bullet move under his hand. It wasn't too far in and he had nothing if not steady hands. However, getting it out would still hurt and he didn't want Natasha awake for it.
He took the sterile forceps from their packaging, and working as fast as he could, carefully removed the bullet. Natasha whimpered and tensed when the tongs closed around the metal inside her, but fell silent again when the projectile hit the mattress. Kate returned in that moment, carrying an armful of towels. Lucky was right at her heels, but they both stopped dead at the door.
"Oh man, that's gross," Kate said as she looked at the blood slowly oozing out of the wound.
Glancing at the girl over his shoulder, Clint saw her swallow hard. "You can stay outside, I'll finish up here. You don't have to see this."
"You don't have to coddle me, I'm not a little child. She tried that same shit too, but I can handle this. I want to help."
Kate squared her shoulders and marched to the other side of the bed. She set down the towels before she carefully sat down herself and took one of Natasha's limp hands in her own.
Clint smirked at the defiant young woman. He hadn't been wrong about her dedication and strength of will.
"Alright, hand me one of the towels and a packet of gauze."
Five minutes later Clint had cleaned and disinfected the area around the wound and bandaged it to his best ability. He removed Natasha's soiled shirt and, with Kate's help, replaced it with one of his own. His first aid kit he put beside the bed, before discarding the leftovers of his impromptu surgery. He sighed and turned to Kate.
"Don't worry, she'll be fine. But we should leave her to rest a bit. And you should clean up." He pointed at her hands, which were grimy and caked over with blood. She looked startled, then rushed from the room.
"I'll leave you a clean shirt on the door knob," he called after her when he heard the bathroom door slam.
Heaving a breath he cast one last look at Natasha, changed his shirt and grabbed another for Kate before closing the door behind him. Lucky wagged his tail, but stayed where he was, guarding the door. Clint ruffled the big dog's ears.
"You missed her too, didn't you?" Clint asked. Lucky whined, then lay down, pressing his back against the bedroom door. "Good boy."
Clint washed up in the kitchen sink, then put some milk on the stove. Natasha always made hot chocolate when she was upset or needed to think. And this evening called for hot chocolate, as he had to figure out what had happened and who was responsible.
Kate joined him at the kitchen table a few minutes later as he put the finishing touches on some sandwiches and sprinkled the steaming chocolate with marshmallows.
He pushed the plate and a mug towards her.
"Eat and tell me what happened. I need everything you can remember."
And she did. Between bites of sandwich and sips of the hot beverage she told him about the assault on the safe house; how Natasha had fought and protected her. That Kate had stolen a car to get Natasha to Clint; how Natasha kept muttering about Clint being the only one she could trust.
"She talked about you, on the way here. A lot," Kate said at that point, looking at Clint thoughtfully. "Why aren't you together anymore?"
Clint looked at her, no longer surprised by her perceptiveness. He sighed.
"I don't know. I mean, I do, but it's complicated."
He couldn't tell Kate that Natasha had thought that she owed the Army for saving her, and so kept going back for one more tour and one more tour. He knew she couldn't tell him where she was or what she was doing, but it made the phone calls pretty one-sided. Out of the blue she'd show up every few months, hurt. Clint would patch her up and she'd be gone again as soon as she was healed. While he never expected her to stay, not knowing what danger she was in took its toll on him.
It hadn't been all her, though. He had been on a crusade, trying to serve justice, to be a good guy. He did find out in time that being on the side of the law and being a good guy didn't always go hand in hand.
"I got caught up in my mission, same as she got caught up in hers. I guess there wasn't enough space in our lives for it all. So one day I told her that I couldn't go on like this. She agreed and that was the last time I saw her."
He rubbed his hand across his neck.
"That was three years ago."
Kate rolled her eyes as she finished her chocolate. "Man, that doesn't make sense. You need to talk."
Clint chuckled. "Yeah, we were always surprisingly bad at that."
"I mean, you do still love her, don't you?"
"Yeah," he answered without thinking, his heart beating faster as he remembered her standing in front of him earlier, smiling up at him.
Realizing what he just said, he fixed Kate with a glare. "Don't tell her."
"I don't think I need to." She yawned. "You already did."
She was right. Given the way he had looked at Natasha when she suddenly stood in front of him earlier she had to know how he felt.
"Yeah, I guess you're right. You should get some sleep. I have some things to take care of, to make sure you're safe."
"But-," she started, then yawned again.
"Go take the bed and keep an eye on Natasha, okay?"
"Alright, alright."
With those words she got up and a moment later Clint heard Lucky's tail beat the floor, then the bedroom door opened and closed. He got out his phone with a weary sigh. He needed help. Time to call in the big guns.
The phone rang once, then his old friend answered.
"Carol, I need you and the guys. It's a matter of life and death."
xxxxxx
Natasha slowly woke, feeling heavy, warm and safe. She took a deep breath, recognizing Clint's scent on the pillow underneath her head. She smiled, feeling content as she inhaled once more, never wanting to leave her safe cocoon. Until she became aware of her body which ached all over, especially her side.
The memory came back with the speed the bullet that had hit her there. Kate!
She opened her eyes, only to find that the soft breathing she'd heard subconsciously was coming from the sleeping girl on the other side of the bed.
Breathing a sigh of relief to see her safe, Natasha felt for the wound in her abdomen. It was covered in gauze and still tender, but unless she'd slept for days, that was to be expected. She couldn't feel any sign of inflammation; Clint had done good work. As always.
She sighed, feeling a tad nostalgic. It had felt so good to see him close up last night, so much better than the glimpses of him she got from a distance these past few years. She'd kept an eye on him, of course she had. It's what she did. He was still hers, even if he wasn't.
She'd seen him go out with other women, seen him laugh and flirt and live. None of those relationships had lasted; not with the gorgeous blonde scientist, nor with his tall, dark colleague. She sighed. Not like she had anything to say about it, he had called it quits years ago. And she'd moved on too, but her relationships hadn't gone any better than his.
Natasha extricated herself from the blankets carefully, so as not to wake Kate. She shuffled to the door, her side throbbing now that she moved. She heard the click of dog nails on the hardwood floor of the short hallway, and sure enough Lucky was there when she stepped outside.
"Hey, old friend," she greeted him as she scratched his ruff. He wagged his tail madly and nudged her hand with his big head. Her lungs started to burn when she realized how much she'd missed the mutt. Almost as much as his owner, if she was honest.
"Let's see what Clint is up to, shall we?" she asked the dog as she took a deep, steadying breath.
Lucky followed her to the living area, his quiet presence keeping her calm. She could do this, it was Clint after all.
He was asleep at the overflowing desk below the window, head pillowed on his arms. His hair stuck up like he'd run his hand through it repeatedly, which was one of the habits she'd always found endearing in him. Her heart clenched with pent-up emotions.
Lucky bounded over to him and stuck his nose under Clint's arm, right into his ear.
Clint startled and jerked awake. "What the hell," he mumbled, trailing off when his eyes fixed on Natasha.
He fumbled with his hearing aids as he rose, and looked at her with such concern that she felt stupid for ever thinking she didn't matter to him.
You just want to survive, to get back to your loved ones. In combat, when things were dire, she'd always thought of Clint. Now he looked at her like he was trying to read her mind, his brow furrowed, uncertainty written all over his body. In that moment she knew she'd been silent for too long.
"Nat."
"I'm sorry." Then her hands took over as she recalled the gestures that were once so familiar, that she and Clint had studied together after the roadside bomb had cost him most of his hearing.
Biting her lip she signed, "I'm sorry for giving up on us without a fight all those years ago. But I thought it was the right thing to do for you."
He looked at her, his mouth a perfect O. Then he shook himself out of his stupor and crossed the short distance between them. His gestures when signing were almost as clumsy as hers.
"I'm sorry too. I've been an idiot. I was so afraid that one day you wouldn't come back, I thought it would be easier to let you go." Wordlessly asking permission, he carefully reached out to touch her wounded side. "I was wrong."
Goosebumps rose on her skin when Clint's fingers touched her, warmth spreading through her as her heart beat faster. She put her hand on top of his, twining her fingers with his.
"Do you think we rate a second chance?" he asked, his eyes shining with hope.
Natasha cupped his cheek, feeling him tremble slightly underneath her own shaking hand. She didn't have to think about her answer at all.
"Yes," she said with a smile, watching Clint's eyes light up as his lips mirrored hers. As much as she wanted to just kiss him and never let him go, they had more pressing concerns.
"But first we need to make sure that Kate is safe. There has to be a mole in your office or the police."
He sighed, his smile turning dark as he pulled back.
"Yeah, I've been working on that. I called the Avengers for backup. Well, I called Carol."
"Good thinking," Natasha nodded, already missing his warmth.
"She's better at this whole computer stuff than I am and I needed someone who's not working for either the police or the DA to help me sort this out."
Natasha's side chose that moment to start throbbing and she flinched.
"Damn, I'm an idiot," Clint swore and held out his hand. "You're hurt, you should lay down. Nothing we can do right now but wait."
Despite her discomfort Natasha smiled as he guided her to his overstuffed couch and helped her lay down.
"What's going on?" Kate asked sleepily from the hallway entrance, rubbing her eyes.
xxxxxx
They had just settled on the couch, Natasha stretched out, her head in Clint's lap, when the phone rang. Kate watched Natasha and Clint from where she was seated on the lone overstuffed chair, a small smile on her lips.
"Hey Carol," he answered the call after glancing at the name on the display.
"I know who's been feeding Whitehall info and you're not gonna like it," she said matter-of-factly. "It's your boss, Pierce. I found and followed the money trail, even though they hid it well."
Pierce.
Clint swallowed hard as he tried not to break his phone. That wouldn't help at all. But - Pierce. He had trusted him, looked up to the ace attorney. Natasha sat up; he could feel her eyes on him.
"Fuck."
"Yeah man, you say it. He doesn't know that you know Natasha, does he? That somehow your witness may end up at your place?"
"No, he doesn't. Doesn't mean he won't find out. Or that he might just assume I know something and send Whitehall's guys here."
"You know, you don't have to worry about them right now. I have the guys staking out your place. But you should get the hell out of Dodge."
"You're the best, Carol."
"You know it!"
"Yup. Not like you let me forget what a marvel you are. Anyway, thanks for your help, Cap."
"That's what friends are for."
He hung up.
"The guys and Carol are guarding the place, but we should leave town. Pierce is in Whitehall's pocket."
Clint and Natasha's history was no secret, or at least that they had served together at some point. If Pierce got his hands on Natasha's service record, he'd figure out that there might be a connection.
"It's only a matter of time until he starts looking for you two and comes to me."
Kate started to protest, but Natasha cut her short.
"Clint's right, Kate. You need to leave town. I can't protect you here. Go with Clint. He'll keep you safe."
Clint's head whipped around, ready to protest.
Kate was faster. "But what about you? That sounds like you're not coming?"
Natasha put her hand on Clint's arm, staying him as she addressed Kate.
"That's right, I'm not. I have things to take care of before I can go. One thing you have to know, Kate, is that I won't let anything happen to you. Do you believe me?"
The girl nodded, swallowing hard.
Clint just looked at Natasha, his blue-green eyes shining with concern. She choked up for a moment.
Taking a deep breath she said, "No one threatens my people."
Clint smiled at that, a wicked, fierce smile. "Yours?"
"Always." She smiled back at him, only now realizing how hard her heart was beating.
"Find us when you're done. You know where we'll be."
"Always," she repeated, a silent promise in her eyes.
xxxxxx
Carolers wandered the streets as soft, big flakes of snow tumbled from the heavens a few weeks after Natasha had said a tentative goodbye to Clint and Kate. They sang of silent nights and peace on earth. Little did they know that the night wouldn't be peaceful much longer.
The big Mercedes was parked way back in the parking lot next to the derelict housing block, away from prying eyes or suspicious minds. Daniel Whitehall and Alexander Pierce approached it from two sides and entered the limousine.
Sitting down, the doors locked on them. Startled, Whitehall looked up and saw the blinking light on the rear view mirror.
"Oh fuck," Pierce said next to him when a little screen beside the camera began to show a countdown.
Three. Two. One.
The carolers screamed when a very contained explosion rocked the street.
Nearby, two women dressed inconspicuously in winter coats and furry boots, red curls and a blonde Mohawk hidden by fluffy hats and scarves covering their faces bumped their fists together before blending easily into the evening crowd.
xxxxxx
Natasha parked her car next to the small farm house in the middle of nowhere, Iowa. Just like everything around, it was covered in snow, but smoke from the chimney and lights on inside showed that it wasn't deserted.
The smell of pine and freshly baked cookies surrounded her the moment she stepped inside the front door. Clint and Kate had strung lights onto a fairly bent, slightly shaggy tree and hung purple Christmas baubles onto it. Natasha smiled as she remembered Clint's affinity for that particular color. Thinking about the first time she'd met Kate, she remembered that the girl had also worn purple.
Hearing music from the kitchen radio, she walked through the living room to the back of the house. The music was replaced by the news, the explosion that had killed Daniel Whitehall and Alexander Pierce but didn't injure anyone else, was still one of the main topics. Taking a still warm cookie from the baking sheet on the kitchen island, Natasha walked out onto the back porch. Clint and Kate were shooting arrows at some undeserving snowmen, while Lucky was chased around the yard by a small black cat.
He bounded up to her excitedly, barking the whole time, jumping up on her as he wagged his tail.
"Natasha!" Kate yelled and shoved her bow into Clint's hands as she ran over. A moment later Kate wrapped her arms around Natasha and hugged her tight. She returned the affection, her heart jumping happily. Next thing she knew, Clint was hugging them both, his arms warm and strong around her. Without thinking she kissed him and felt whole for the first time in forever.