A/N: If Leverage and Avengers existed in the same universe, I feel sure that Eliot and Natasha would have crossed paths, at least once.

It's like the start of a bad joke, an ex-assassin and an ex-hitter walk into a bar.

It's a dark and smoky bar and you might miss the man hunched over the counter. He's nursing a headache and a hangover and he's sipping whiskey. He has dark hair and even darker eyes.

But you probably wouldn't miss the woman, all dangerous curves and eye-drawing red hair, striding with purpose through the door and across the floor.

"Romanoff," the man drawls and pours her a drink.

"Spencer." The woman replies, sliding onto the stool beside him.

You might wonder if they are lovers or perhaps—you think, because of the formal manner of address—old war buddies.

You would be wrong.

They drink in silence for a minute.

"I hear you're playing the white knight these days." The woman says and the way the light shines on her hair makes you think of blood, but you don't know why.

He pours them both another drink before he says, "So I've been told." He leans back and the shadows half-swallow him. "I hear the same thing about you."

She raises her glass to him. "Here's to us." But there's a bitterness to her voice and a wry twist to her lips.

"Still got red in your ledger, Romanoff?"

She doesn't answer, but they hold each other's gaze for a long moment. And, though to your ears it sounds like silence between them, you think they are saying more than you can imagine.

"Here's to us." The man repeats, lifting his glass to hers.

They drain their glasses to the last amber drop and then, without another word, the man leaves.

You watch him go. There's a heaviness to his step and as he steps into the night, he does not seem to shrink from it, as so many do, but rather to embrace it. One second he is on the threshold, the next he is hidden completely in the darkness.

Puzzled, you turn back to look at his companion, but she's already gone.

It's like the start of a bad joke, an ex-assassin and an ex-hitter walk into a bar. They drink their penance and they talk of old wrongs. And then they leave.

Until next time.

-end-