"Romanoff, you're needed for the debrief," Hawkeye tells her.

Natasha lets her shoulders slump a little. She is bone tired and just wants to sink into bed. Hawkeye presses a water bottle into her hands and pushes her in the direction she's supposed to go.

So Natasha recounts her version of the battle in front of Agent Coulson and faceless S.H.I.E.L.D operatives she has yet to officially meet, skipping the part about hacking into the database.

The entire base is called into the main hangar. The grief is clear on all of the agents faces. Whispers make their way across the crowd. From what she can gather more than a hundred creatures were part of the attack, at least ten S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are dead and a score more wounded.

Director Fury takes control of the hangar and a picture of the creatures, along with a picture of a middle-aged man are projected on the wall behind him.

"Here is what we know. These genetic mutations are the product of Professor Hendrick's experiments. We don't know how the mutations infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D or who is behind the attack. We do know the Professor went missing three months ago. His recovery is now S.H.I.E.L.D's number one priority. In the days ahead we will ask much from you, but know this: we will avenge our people. You are all dismissed."

Natasha looks around her and sees the agents invigorated by this speech. Sees grief turn to resolution. She returns to her room.

Professor Hendricks is rescued in days, from a cult named HYDRA. Natasha is not asked to help with the mission, nor does she offer. Yet the week after the sea-troll incident suspicious glares are replaced with smiles, a pot plant mysteriously appears in her room and her martial-arts class double. One battle and S.H.I.E.L.D. has welcomed her as part of the team. It's disconcerting.

The base library is huge, filled floor to ceiling with books. Lamps give the room a soft glow, at odds with the harshly lit utilitarian corridors outside. Natasha browses like a child in a candy store. She settles into an armchair, periodically closing her book to explore the shelves. She accumulates two stacks of books the height of a toddler next to her chair. It's an eclectic collection, a treatise on moral philosophy is sandwiched between a copy of Pride & Prejudice and an Advanced Mandarin textbook.

She's deep into a torrid novel- the word throbbing is used twice in one paragraph- when someone comes close enough to wrench away her concentration. Natasha glares at Hawkeye. He sets a thin cardbord box down next to her.

"Open it," he urges her.

It's her bodysuit, complete with gadgets designed to incapacitate, cause pain and otherwise accentuate Natasha's impressive skill-set.

"R&D loved your trinkets. I figured you'd want them back."

She picks up her suit, running her fingers over its secrets. "Thank you."

"This means you can't mock me about my bow."

"I'm going to mock you for using a weapon appropriate to the middle ages all I want," She replies with a smile.

Hawkeye looks like he wants to argue the point with her, but chooses not to. "You're up. We've got a mission."

"Space vampire in San Francisco?"

"I wish."

"Agents Romanoff and Barton. Take a seat," Fury says.

Natasha starts a little at her new title, but sits in a sleek black chair next to Hawkeye.

"Your first mission is in Russia. Barton will pose as a potential investor, Romanoff as his translator."

Natasha nods, reaching for the briefing packets Fury slides across the glass table.

"Agent Kapoor will be your backup."

On cue, Kapoor rushes in and takes a seat.

"Kapoor speaks enough Russian to get by if Romanoff is captured or killed. Her cover is as a tourist. You will be staying in the same hotel but will have no contact unless necessary."

From the way Kapoor looks at her oddly. Natasha realizes if she steps out of line Kapoor is their to kill her. Natasha expected a killchip or grandiose threats about satellites, but Fury is giving her a minimal amount of trust to see what she'll do with it. She appreciates the gesture.

"If were operating almost anywhere else you'd have a S.H.I.E.L.D team on standby but the Russians don't like us. You'll need to get to the Polish border before you can count on our aid." Fury looks at Romanoff and Barton to make sure he is understood.

"Your objective is to destroy an underground lab left over from the sixties. You will be given the invitation to the auction and the exact location of the lab once you arrive. Examine the lab for new technology before destroying it. We believe an earlier branch of HYDRA left enough there to give some of the locals ideas. Most of the intel is from recently released Soviet archives so other intelligence organizations may be involved. Don't step on anyone's feet unless they get in your way."

When Fury leaves them to read their files Kapoor exhales in relief.

"Nervous about something?" Natasha asks.

Kapoor's eyes dart around the room, unable to meet Natasha's. "Yes, uh, I'm leaving someone I care about behind and he's-"

Natasha holds up a hand. "If it isn't relevant to the mission, I don't care." Kapoor using her worry for a lover to cover her fear of Natasha, or shooting Natasha, is oddly endearing.

They fly first class and Natasha takes the time to doze in half hour spurts, readying her body for the change in time zones. Kapoor is on a different plane three hours behind, and if the Black Widow wanted to kill Agent Barton and escape with the information she'd gathered now is the time. She feels no inclination to do so.

Hawkeye spends his time observing her and the other passengers. Neither Black Widow or Hawkeye look like themselves. A dowdy brown suit and strategic application of makeup has turned Natasha from beautiful to mildly pretty. Hawkeye is wearing a tailored suit that costs the same as his civilian wardrobe combined and looks every inch the American investor. The other passengers in the first class cabin spend the flight sleeping and working.

He leans forward to shake her awake. "We're almost there. Get ready to work."

A middle-aged man, dressed in clothing that would have been impressive twenty years and a hundred washings ago, speaks in Russian, a greedy gleam in his eyes. Natasha quietly tells Clint the English translation.

"Gentlemen. I welcome you here today to present you with an opportunity. We will take a tour of the facility. The equipment below is old, but made for the world of today. It does not make super soldiers but super minds. In an age of invention it is science and not thugs that determine victory. You will have exactly five minutes to inspect the lab before we begin the bidding. You may not touch anything."

It is clear that the local government is relishing the chance to make a profit and not taking any chances. The rather ordinary house in crawling with soldiers. Both Natasha and Clint note the location and movement of the guards. They are in what would be the living room, where a junior official serves decent champagne, the greed in his eyes making him twin to the older bureaucrat. Despite herself Natasha is impressed at S.H.I.E.L.D's resources, to crash a gathering like this with next to no notice would have been a challenge for her on her own.

Hawkeye, under the name Clint Leighton, is one of four bidders. Two Russians and one Englishman are competing for the HYDRA remnants. The younger Russian, Pyotr Smirnov, is wealthy but is clearly not taking the bidding seriously, paying more attention to his champagne than the Russian bureaucrat. The older Russian, Illya Kyznetsov, is dressed in a crisp business suit and is not hiding his disdain of the other bidders. He is a "self-made" billionaire and everything about him, from his shoes to his haircut, screams wealth. The Englishman, Lord Alex Warren, is in his mid-forties and hides behind his large glasses. He looks perfectly ordinary, but Natasha is immediately wary. He was the target she was hired to kill before Clint brought her to S.H.I.E.L.D. She knows well that he's an elusive bastard.

"Remember Barcelona?" Natasha asks Clint softly.

"Not really," answers Clint with a hint of sarcasm.

"The job I was hired to do before you hired me? Well Warren there, he was one of the people I was scheduled to interpret with for a business deal. Just an interesting coincidence," she says.

"Very interesting."

Clint understands her perfectly, but lets no trance of the troubling information show on his face or in his stance.

The Russian official turns to the side table behind him and with a theatrical flourish knocks over a vase attached to the table. A hidden trap door opens next to him.

"Please, come in. Your time begins now," He pulls out a stopwatch and presses a button.

Natasha and Clint descend the staircase cautiously. At the bottom is a single large room. It contains tables, beakers and the clutter one would usually associate with a lab but Natasha's eye is immediately drawn to the silver chair in the back of the room. It is connected to metal pipes that hum slightly, all of it embedded in the rock. At the end of each pipe ix a mess of wires leading to a silver helmet. It's apparent why the Russians are selling the land and not the equipment, getting the chair and pipes out of the room without damaging them would be costly and time consuming.

Under the pretense of reading a few of the papers to Clint, Natasha gets closer to one of the benches. He places his body between her and the watchful guard, hiding her from view for an instant. She uses that time to slip a small bug onto the massively large computer. S.H.I.E.L.D should be able to access all its files, given time.

"It's time for the bidding to begin," says the Russian bureaucrat, gesturing with his stopwatch. "Let us start at 500,000 Euros."

Clint bids twice, once at 775,000 and once at 1,500,000, the maximum Fury has allocated to win the bid fairly. After Clint drops out only Kyznetsov and Warren are left. They bid furiously but at 2,500,000 the Russian billionaire is triumphant.

"Sold! Ser Kyznetsov if you'll come look over the paperwork. Everyone else, the door is above you."

The younger Russian walks up the stairs with the air of someone who has just seen a play and been slightly entertained. Warren stomps more than walks, fury in his eyes at being outbid. Clint and Natasha follow, Clint projecting disappointment and Natasha disinterested professionalism.

They are in their hotel room. They have swept for bugs and come up empty. No one appears to be tailing them. Natasha, always cautious, closes the curtain over the window so no unseen watcher can read their lips.

"He was your target?" Clint asks.

"Yes, I was a day away from shooting him when you recruited me."

"Do you know who hired you or why?"

Natasha shakes her head. "A third party paid for the hit. My research on the man showed he is in debt to some nasty players but they'd pay for retrieval, not assassination. What do you make of the chair and the helmets?"

"Increasing intelligence has to be difficult. Maybe they have to take it from somewhere. I'd guess the chair is where you set the potential super mind and the helmets are for the suckers who get drained. HYDRA always had ways of procuring experimental subjects, willing and not."

Natasha shudders at the thought of having her intelligence ripped away.

"I don't like any of this but we continue as planned. The techies have all the information they're gonna get from the bug. If the guard deployment stays the same you can sneak in, set the charges and get out without trouble." Clint continues.

They make contingency plans until nightfall, then change into their mission clothes.

Natasha slips through the bathroom window of the house above the lab. The guards outside continue to gossip and smoke. The two guards inside should be in front of the door to the lab, relaxed from the long and uneventful watch. Natasha takes two throwing stars, each tipped with a tranquilizer, from her belt. She sneaks forward into the house, avoiding the creaky wooden boards by walking on the edge between the ceiling and floor. Her caution is unnecessary. The two guards lie at the doorway, unconscious and tied by black rope. Natasha backs away silently.

"Stop right there," a voice orders in Russian.

Natasha does.

"Who are you?" she asks, voice wavering.

Through the small speaker in her ear she hears Clint curse. "I'll be right there," he promises.

The man behind her steps closer. "I'm pointing a gun at you. Drop your weapons and turn around." His voice is softer than it was a moment ago, responding to the vulnerability Natasha projects.

Natasha turns and throws the stars right into the man's throat. He falls dead to the ground. It's the younger Russian, eyes open and sightless, gun still clasped in his hands. Natasha takes the gun from his still warm fingers and removes the ammunition. The soft ka-thunk of an arrow and the hiss of released knockout gas come from outside the house.

"It was Smirnov," she speaks into her microphone. "Guards are down, no other hostiles visible."

"Copy that. The guards outside are unconscious. We have three hours until shift change."

"I'm moving to the lab."

"I've got your six."

His voice comes from behind her. Natasha raises her eyebrow, impressed despite herself how quickly he's gone from sniper's perch to the ground.

Natasha opens the door to the lab with her back to the wall. Blue lightning shoots from the doorway and hits the wall opposite, leaving scorch marks. Clint shoots an arrow in the direction of the blast. The explosion illuminates the lab and Lord Alex Warren. He is undamaged from the blast.

"I was wondering when you'd get here," he says, rolling the bug that Natasha planted earlier between his fingers.

Blue electricity washes over the two agents. They hit the ground.

"Tie them up. We can use them for the trial run. The Hawk and the Widow, quite a catch," Warren states with a sneer.

The two men who ambushed the agents dutifully do as they're told, disarming Natasha of her guns and Hawkeye of his bow as they lie on the ground paralyzed. Both of the henchmen have the unwavering stare of the fanatic. Hawkeye, the Black Widow and the two guards from upstairs are all tied to the pipes, helmets placed on their heads.

"Sad we killed your boyfriend?" Natasha gasps as soon as she is able, body still visibly twitching from the electricity the strange guns produced.

"Trying to anger me by implying I'm gay? How very dull. Smirnov was a business partner, nothing more. Expendable. He did not see the true glory of what we can accomplish with this machine, only saw the profit." Warren replies.

Natasha can't see Clint from where she's tied but she knows he's putting the information together same as she is. Now to get the man to truly monologue.

"Scientists like you specialize in twenty seconds of glory before their employer offs them." Natasha goads.

"My brothers will never betray me. And with an army of geniuses all over the world devoted to our cause? HYDRA will rise again. Our reign will last centuries!"

Natasha laughs throatily.

"Gag the bitch," Warren orders, voice tight with anger.

The jack-booted henchmen move to comply. When they come close enough Natasha drops the pretense that the ropes have succeeded in containing her. She punches one hard enough to knock him out and avoids the startled shot of the other. She disarms him and fries him with his own electricity gun before turning to Warren. He is moving towards her, no weapon in his hands. She shoots the electricity gun, which looks more like a blunderbuss than a modern weapon, at the man. It doesn't fire. Warren smirks.

"Trying to use my own technology against me? Cute."

The Black Widow snarls and moves towards him, feinting with her fist and then delivering a roundhouse kick. She hits nothing but air. Warren grabs her leg and pulls her off balance. He's snake fast and it's all she can do to block his strikes. She doges a kick but is too slow to block his punch. It hits her solidly in the face and blood trickles from her lip. She retaliates, turning a block with her left leg into a jump kick with her right. Her foot hits his chest, knocking him backwards.

They circle each other slowly, focus on each other. Out of the corner of Natasha's eye she sees Hawkeye move, regaining control over enough of his muscles to loosen his bonds. Warren also catches the movement and almost casually draws a knife from his boot and throws it towards Clint. Natasha uses the time to rush him and is able to land a blow on his face before they are back exchanging punches, kicks and blocks. Clint dodges the knife as much as he able while still tied, instead of being lodged in his throat it sticks from his left ear, glinting wetly with his blood. Natasha has no time to think of her partner, she is too busy trying to defend herself. Warren uses a block to grab hold of her arm and moves to break it. Natasha rolls with the movement and is able to pull herself free. Warren is on her before she can recover and hits her twice, once on her injured arm, once on the ribs. In desperation she tries to sweep his legs from under him. He easily avoids the move, but it puts some space between them.

The advice she gave her class about fighting a superior martial-artist rings in her head. Run or shoot the bastard. There is no way to do either. If she runs Hawkeye will die. Her weapons are on the other side of the room. Natasha bares her teeth at Warren. He may be better, but she's a damn sight more vicious. He'll only take her life at the cost of his own. Warren smirks in response to the determination in her gaze.

"You know what I do with spiders? I crush them," he taunts.

Warren lunges towards her and she adjusts her stance, ready for the onslaught. He gasps in pain and freezes, the momentum of his lunge toppling him to the ground face first. A knife sticks out of his back, the same knife that was embedded in Clint's ear a fraction of a second before.

Natasha looks towards Clint. He is bleeding profusely but has a smug smile on his face.

"Amateur," Clint says tiredly, nodding to the corpse.

"Nice throw," she offers.

Natasha places the explosives and Clint performs rudimentary first aid on his injuries. Clint and Natasha trudge up the stairs to find three nervous guards babbling in Russian and pointing guns at them. Clint wearily draws an arrow but Natasha is already moving. Jump, kick, twist. Ten seconds later the third guard falls down to the ground unconscious, joining his brethren.

"Waiting for a round of applause?" Clint asks, a touch of admiration in his tone.

Natasha shrugs. "Couldn't hurt."

They walk out of the house, not flinching at the noise behind them as the lab and its equipment is blown to pieces.

"Unfortunately none of the files we recovered will help us create our own prototype intelligence creation device." Director Fury states.

"That's unfortunate. It was promising research," one Council member says.

"Given the side-effects HYDRA documented it may be for the best," another replies.

"That will be all Director Fury," the Council Chairwoman says.

Nick Fury strides away, leather coat sweeping behind him. He waits until he is back in his quarters to draw a USB from his pocket. It contains all the files Agents Romanoff and Barton recovered. He crushes it beneath his boot.

Natasha sits through the debrief and congratulations, and is shown to her new quarters. The soft glow of dawn filters through her windows and her pot plant has already been placed on the bedside table. She thinks this is Fury's way of saying her probationary period is over. She knows Fury would have no problem ordering her death if he thought she was a threat, and this sign of trust shakes her almost as much as knowing that Fury is right to trust her. This is home.

Natasha hears a soft knock on her door. She slides it open and Hawkeye is there, freshly bandaged but still dressed in the mission clothes.

"You need a shower," she tells him, wrinkling her nose.

"Kapoor and I were wondering if you'd like to come out for burgers and fries with us."

"Sure."

They take her to a hole in the wall burger joint. The burgers are overcooked and the fries tasteless but Natasha eats them anyway.

Five months later

After a tough mission Natasha's favorite method of escape is a book. Clint's is soap opera.

She is in Clint's quarters, lying on the couch with her left ankle elevated. The light from the television plays over her face as she watches the shenanigans of an improbably large and incestuous family. Clint is sitting on the floor, back to the coach, shoveling popcorn into his mouth.

"So let me get this straight. She's an evil twin who has come back-" Nastasha starts to asks.

"No, not an evil twin. She got surgery to look exactly the same as Yelena." Clint explains.

"Did the original actress quit?"

"No-"

"It's completely illogical."

"We just defeated a scientist who was planning to take over the world through hypnosis! Life isn't logical."

"But-"

He throws some of his popcorn at her. "Shhh! Janet's about to give Hank the smackdown."

She steals his popcorn and lets herself relax into the couch.

Fin.

Author's note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Every review is like a sparkly happy-making motivator (and more feedback is very welcome!). I had fun writing this, even if I look back and wince in some places. I hope you had as much fun reading.