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She’s changed her look
But that still doesn’t change who she is.
Natasha Romanoff
Black Widow
Avenger
But now?
She’s on the run.
She’s located Steve and they’re on their way to break their friends out of prison.
They don’t say much, other than discussing the plan
He goes in while she’s on lookout.
She hears over the comms Clint asking where she is, and Steve replying she’s here.
She’s missed him the most.
She could’ve used him the last few days.
She relaxes just a hair when Steve emerges from The Raft; their friends right behind them. Clint pushes past him to give her a hug.
“You OK?” he asks.
“Fine,” she mumbles into his chest. She lets him lead her to one of the side benches to sit down. Sam volunteers to take over the flying.
She remains silent most of the flight, still shaken from everything that’s happened to her. Clint reaches over and squeezes her hand. “What I said at the airport, I didn’t mean that. We’ll always be friends,” he assures.
“I know.”
She goes to the front of the quinjet and tells Sam where to fly them to: one of her safe houses in the British countryside.
Nearly two weeks go by before things are somewhat back to normal. Clint and Scott have taken plea deals and are on house arrest for the next two years, which leaves Sam, Wanda, Steve, and her to fend for themselves. General Ross is still after them, but there are more warrants for her than the other three combined.
To protect them, she leaves and goes to another safe house, this one belonging to Clint. Perhaps if she’s in a place she knows is his she’ll feel better.
It doesn’t help.
She wakes up sweating and gripping the blankets. She wants someone to hold her and tell her everything will be OK.
But no one is coming. She’s alone.
Not wanting to sleep, she grabs her bag, locks up the safe house, and leaves.
She wishes she had her phone to play music and she refuses to turn on the radio. But she needs some kind of noise or she won’t stay awake. Pressing the power button, the radio begins to play. It’s that same song she had heard while driving into town to get gasoline for the generator. Oh well, at least it will keep her mind from drifting.
As the sun begins to rise, she pulls into an abandoned warehouse parking lot where an old quinjet is hiding. It’s the same one she and Clint used to use when they needed to get off the grid. The GPS had been permanently damaged years ago, which deemed it no longer useful for SHIELD.
Switching on the autopilot, she sets it for where she needs to go.
She could’ve told Steve, but then she would’ve had to start all the way at the beginning, and beginning meaning back to 1992, when the undercover mission began for her “family”. She can’t do that. He wouldn’t understand. Clint’s the only one who knows the whole story.
With just over two hours to go, she contemplates trying to sleep.
No! Her brain yells at her immediately. Stay awake. It won’t end well if you try.
She paces the jet in an attempt to stay awake. If only she had a thermos of coffee right now.
Clint settles into bed to watch TV. The house feels empty without his family. They’re on vacation, water-skiing without him. He’s worried about Natasha. He wants to know why she was so quiet on the jet. The memory of her burying herself into his arms when they parted ways keeps replaying in his head. He hasn’t seen her that shaken since Ultron.
The timer he set on the TV goes off and the room is dark. His eyes are only half-closed when he hears a knock at the door. They snap open immediately.
Wait, he knows that knock.
It’s the one Natasha uses when they’re on missions.
Walking downstairs and turning on the lamp on the side table, he opens the door. His heart hurts when he sees her. He doesn’t see any visible injuries, but she looks rough.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I know I’m not supposed to be here.”
He invites her in and closes the door. She sits on the couch and holds onto one of the pillows; her knees are pulled up to her chest.
“Do you want some tea?” he asks. She shakes her head no.
He wants to sit by her, but the look in her eyes tells him she might not be in the present.
“Are you with me?” he asks, getting on his knees in front of her. She hesitates before nodding yes. He’s not convinced. “Natasha, can you tell me where you are?”
“Your farmhouse,” she answers. She still tense. She’s clutching the pillow tighter.
“Yeah, and you’re safe here. No one’s coming.”
She barely nods back, but he can see her body start to relax. She moves to stretch her legs across the length of the couch, staring straight ahead at the door.
He knows of other things that he can try to offer her, but that fact she declined tea is alarming him. That’s usually only thing that will calm her, which then leads into her being more receptive of the others: food, water, bath, shower.
She allows him to hold her hand, however her grip is tight. He places his other one on top.
“I promise you you’re safe. They don’t bother me this late at night.”
She nods again, accepting his words.
He reaches over and grabs the remote, perhaps familiar sounds will bring her back. The TV comes to life, and so does Natasha.
He thinks it worked, until he sees her lips moving.
“Tash?” he asks.
She doesn’t answer him. Clint looks to the screen and realizes in horror that what he turned on is not what he expected.
What are kids’ movies doing on this late at night? He asks himself.
He quickly flips to the next channel, relived to see it’s the tail end of a baseball game. He smiles just a hair because he sees his favorite team has a sizeable lead, but the sound of his partner’s breath hitching makes that smile vanish.
“Nat, take a deep breath, you’re OK,” he says turning his attention back to her. She tries, but it’s obvious she’s still not with him.
Gently, he takes her hand and presses it gently to his chest, something they’ve done before. “Do you feel mine?” he asks. She nods. “Good, try to follow.”
They attempt multiple rounds, but she can’t get her breathing in time with his. There’s only one option left, but he doesn’t want to, and he knows she’ll hate him when he does, even though she’s the one who came up with it in the first place.
“Natasha, do you need me to call the code?” he asks, the words are painful when they come out. She continues to stare at him. Her eyes are still a bit unfocused as she ponders his words. She opens her mouth to answer, but the word seems to be stuck in her throat.
Clint waits for an answer, knowing what the rules were when utilizing this protocol: only follow up if she says yes. He watches as she turns her attention back to the TV. A commercial is playing for the upcoming news, and somehow it brings her back.
He looks to the screen. They’re showing clips of the manhunt for their friends, followed by how The Accords are affecting the rest of the world. It’s the last clip that catches his attention.
“Plus, an organization that was supposedly brought down eight years ago was never actually gone. How did they manage to stay off the security radar and where are the people responsible for finally bringing it to an end? That’s all coming up next after the game.”
His eyes widen at the headline; he recognizes what they’re talking about, but there’s no way it’s true. Clearly they must be talking about something else because he remembers that mission vividly: the strategic placing of the bombs in Dreykov’s home, Natasha sitting in the car waiting for Antonia to come home from school, him pressing the button at her command, gunshots going back and forth between them and the Hungarian Special Forces, the hiding in the vents for two long days.
Catching his breath, he looks back at Natasha, who’s eyes are just as wide as his are. They’ve known each other for so long that he can practically hear the question in her head: Why is the local news reporting on this? The news clip didn’t show any identifying faces, but it was enough to send her back to the same state she was in when she first arrived at the house.
He doesn’t need to ask the question again and he’s hesitant to leave her line of sight, but there’s no option. Laura and the kids are due back home tomorrow, but he can’t allow them into the house. Not until someone says it’s OK.
“I’m going to call the code,” he tells her. She moves to reach out for his hand. Her lips are parted, and even though she’s not speaking, he knows what she’s thinking. No! Don’t leave me! He does his best to smile. They say it takes more muscles to frown than it is to smile, but this one hurts. “It’ll be OK, Nat. I’m going to get you through this.” He goes to sit on the bottom of the staircase. Keeping the couch in his sightline, he sends a coded message to Laura, telling her to call ASAP.
“Clint, is everything OK?” she asks right away.
“Honey, what I’m about to say, doesn’t go be beyond us.”
“Clint, you’re scaring me,” Laura says starting to panic.
Clint takes a breath before speaking again. He doesn’t want to say these words. “Code red. Severe.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, then shuffling as he guesses Laura is moving to sit down. “I can’t remember the last time you’ve ever called that,” she says.
“It even pained me to leave her to even have to do it.”
“Is she OK?
“She will be; it’s going to take time,” he replies.
Laura tells him what she’ll do until it’s safe to come home. He’s thankful she’s so understanding of his and Natasha’s relationship. Ending the call, he goes back to his best friend, who still hasn’t moved.
He offers her tea again, and this time she accepts. Placing his hand on her knee, he stands up to go into the kitchen. Minutes later, he’s carrying two mugs back into the living room. At long last she relaxes her posture. The game on the TV continues to play as they drink, his hand is resting on her knee. Seconds later, she’s lacing her fingers into his. She squeezes twice; their code for “Thank you.”
The game finishes as they set their empty cups on the table. The other team managed a few more runs, but not enough to win the game. He turns it off before it goes to the news, not wanting to see the footage in Russia a second time.
The look in her eyes when he looks at her again tells him she needs sleep, However when he asks her, her look instantly goes back to being fearful.
“No one’s coming. It’s just you and me,” he assures. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs.”
With a slight nod, she allows him to walk her up the stairs and into her room. He sees her relax when he brings the covers up to her chin.
He sits on the floor with his back up against the nightstand, knowing the only way she’ll sleep is if he’s there. Grabbing a pillow he’s knows is hiding under the bed, he puts it behind his head and waits. Just as he’s feeling relaxed himself, he hears her breaths even out. At long last, his partner sleeps. Tucking the pillow back in his hiding spot, he quietly makes his way to his own room.
Sleep for him doesn’t come back to him like it did earlier. He’s afraid she’ll leave out of fear, even though she knows she’s safe and that no one will hurt her. Refusing to turn on the TV again, he rolls over and turns on the light. Picking up the book he’s been reading the last few days, he turns to where his bookmark is.
She wants to tell Clint the answer to his question, but she can’t decide. She wants to say yes, knowing the kids don’t need to see her like this, but she wants to say no, knowing she should be strong enough to pull through. It’s when she sees the news footage that it all comes rushing back to her and the reason she came here in the first place.
She didn’t want him to leave her, but she allows herself to relax when she hears Clint call her code. She hates when it comes to this, but she’s thankful that Clint knows the right thing to do. She’s a little more coherent when he brings her tea and completely in the present when he tucks her into bed.
She pretends to sleep to get Clint to leave, knowing he’ll stay on the floor all night like he used to in the early days. It’s hard to look at him being worried about her. She wants so much to tell him what the news was talking about, but the words are stuck in her throat. Slipping out of bed, she walks to his room to find him passed out, a book resting on top of his chest. Gently easing it out, she closes it and places it back on the nightstand.
Didn’t take you for being a bookworm, Clint. She thinks to herself. Going around to the other side, she lays down next to him and snuggles close, the warmth of his body soothing her cold one. Perhaps now she can sleep.
Her sleep is much too short to be relaxing. Just because she’s physically safe from anyone harming her, doesn’t mean she’s mentally safe. She wants to wake up, but it’s too late, she’s too far into the dream.
General Dreykov, the man who was her first kill under SHIELD’s orders was very much alive and was still taking girls from wherever he wanted to and turning them into widows or killing them if they couldn’t survive. She got her second chance to take him down alongside her surrogate family, but her dream tonight was something else.
With little effort, he manages to grab her and sedate her with a needle that he’s pulled from his pocket. He picks her up before she can hit the floor and carried her to the elevator to take her to the infirmary. Another syringe is injected into her and she wakes to see Dreykov standing over her. He backhands her when he sees her react to the smell of his cologne.
“Welcome home, Natasha,” he speaks. He gives instructions to the medics in Russian before turning to leave.
She’s desperate to wake up, because she knows it’s not real. Dreykov was killed when Yelena destroyed the plane he was trying to escape in. The Red Room was brought down. But for some reason her mind shows her what could’ve happened should their plan have failed.
She stands next to Dreykov as the guards approach another shipping container. She wants to grab her gun, shoot down the guards, and tell the girls to run, but those aren’t her orders. The guard opens the door and similar to her own experience twenty-one years ago, she hears lots of screaming. She watches in horror as the girls file out of the container and are forced to stand in line. She looks and sees Dreykov point to a young girl with dark blonde hair and tightly holding a stuffed bear. “That one. Bring her to me,” he says. She shines her flashlight on the girl’s face, verifying this is the one Dreykov wants. “Bring her,” he repeats. She looks back at the girl and shudders. This isn’t some random girl that was taken off the streets. It’s Lila Barton. No! How did she get caught up in this? Clint would never allow it.
“No.” She states firmly. Dreykov turns sharply to her.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“You can’t take her. She’s only six.”
“Your sister was that young if I recall. Now bring her to me.”
He pushes her forward and she approaches Lila. She looks just as horrified as she is.
“I’m so sorry, Lila,” she whispers as she picks the little girl off the ground and lifts her into the waiting transport vehicle.
She continues to watch in horror as other girls are screaming, trying to hold onto siblings as they are forced away by other guards. Dreyknov hasn’t asked her to bring any other girls to him and this worries her. Usually he selects about five or six. She begins to follow Dreykov as he walks away, but someone’s arms are grabbing hers and dragging her away.
“Get off me!” she screams. The arms grabbing her never release their hold. “No!”
“Tash, it’s me. You’re safe,” a voice says. She recognizes that voice. She forces her eyes open to stare up at her partner, but she still can’t ground herself back to the present. “I got you. You’re OK,” he whispers again.
“Clint!” she whimpers. Forcing her body not to flinch, she feels him slip his arm around her to help her into a sitting position. Burying her face into his chest, she sobs without restraint. She tries to focus on Clint’s soothing words, but she can’t. The thought of what could’ve been of her niece is terrifying.
“You OK?” she hears him ask.
“Lila,” she whispers.
“Nat, Lila’s not here. She’s with her mom and brothers.”
“No,” she cries. She needs to make him understand. “He took her. He’s going to turn her into a Widow.”
“Tash, the Red Room’s gone,” Clint explains. “Remember eight years ago? Remember the bombs we rigged?”
“Stop. Please!” she cries. Clint holds her as tight as he can. Her body is shaking so bad it’s like she’s had too much caffeine. This is exactly why they came up with the idea of “Code Red” in the first place.
He doesn’t know much time has passed, but eventually she goes still in his arms. The stress of the evening is starting to catch up to her, but he can’t let her fall asleep. Not yet. He needs to make sure she’s OK.
“Natasha, do you remember what I told you whenever we had to call the code?”
She lifts her head from where it has been resting on his shoulder to look up and into his eyes, recognizing the calm she’s so familiar with. “You said that you would get me through it.”
“That’s right,’ he says assumingly. He presses his forehead to hers and they just sit, allowing the tension to ease from the both of them.
She finally feels calm enough to speak, but where does she start? There’s so much to process. “Dreykov survived,” she settles on. “And so did his daughter.”
She’s grateful that he remains in contact with her body as she describes what happened: Yelena sending her the vials, escaping Taskmaster and hiding in the vents, breaking Alexei out of prison and reuniting with Melina, the pheromonal lock and her having to break it, the Red Room crashing to the ground, and even Ross trying to arrest her and her escaping out the back.
“Natasha,” he says sincerely when she finishes. “I’m so sorry you had to do that on your own. If it wasn’t for The Accords, you know I would’ve been there.”
“I could’ve used you too,” she sobs.
Clint gathers her into his arms and holds on tight yet again. The Red Room and the trauma she went through has haunted her dreams for years. They lessened slowly as time went on, but then South Africa happened and because of Wanda’s powers, she had to relive it again. Now a year later, her past once again came back to haunt her. Except this time she was alone and he was hating his house arrest more than ever. It was going to be a long two years.
Time passes and at long last he feels her relax and her breathing is even. Without waking her, he gently repositions them both so they’re now laying down on the bed. One hand leaves her briefly to pull the blankets closer, but it goes right back to holding her tight. She barely stirs, which further proves his point that she’s beyond exhausted.
Clint awakens first to the sun coming through the window. It’s not that bright in the room, but it won’t be long before it is. As quickly and quietly as he can, he removes himself from the bed and closes the curtains before Natasha wakes up. Quietly padding to his bedroom, he finds his phone on the nightstand and turns it on. There’s a message from Laura asking if things are all clear for her to come home. Though it hurts him, he replies no, but changes the level to moderate.
He heads to the bathroom to splash water on his face. He hardly slept last night, constantly worried that Natasha would wake up from a nightmare. Luckily she hardly stirred all night, but he just couldn’t get himself to sleep. He wasn’t there for her before; he needs to make up for it.
Continuing in his morning routine, he begins to brew coffee, this time making enough for two people. As he waits, he finds the ingredients he needs to make breakfast for the two of them, knowing she would appreciate his efforts to make her feel better.
At some point she finally joins him and smiles at the bowl of scrambled eggs and cup of coffee sitting on the table. She sits down and takes a small bite, relishing in its taste and the memory of how many times he’s done this in the past.
They eat in silence. She wants to ask how Laura and the kids are doing, but she can’t. her heart already hurts that she can’t see them and hearing Clint talk about them will for sure break her. Taking advantage of the fact of the “Code Red” protocol still in effect, she retreats to take a bath, wanting to ease away the aches of the past few days. Showers are good when they’re all you have, but a bath is much better.
He sits beside the tub and on the rug, watching as she relaxes in the warm bath.
“I had a dream it didn’t work,” she confesses. He looks over to her and waits. “He chemically subjugated me and forced me to work for him. I don’t know how it happened, but somehow Lila had been taken. I was reluctant when he ordered me to bring her to him, but I had no choice. As he was leaving, he ordered his men to grab me.”
“I haven’t heard you scream those words in a long time. You really scared me, Nat.”
“You said Lila was safe?” she asked.
“Yeah. Laura took them to the beach for the weekend.” He pulls out his phone to show her a picture of his kids. They’re smiling and laughing.
“I miss them so much. But the thought of them seeing me…” she trails off. “I just don’t want to put them in danger.”
He hums in understanding. “Natasha, next time you need to call the code. I’ll be here. I can easily get Laura and the kids to leave for awhile.”
“I know. And thank you.’
He leaves the room to allow her some privacy to dry off and get dressed. He knows what’s coming, but he’s not ready to tell Laura. He still needs time to process the news himself. If only Coulson was alive or Fury wasn’t MIA. He would call one of them and ask them for help.
They’re standing in front of door. His arms are wrapped around her holding her tight, trying to offer once final gesture of comfort before they part ways. He doesn’t want to let go, but he knows he has to. If she stays too long and the police show up at random…no, he won’t let his mind go there. The Raft is no place for anyone, but especially her. They’ll make an example out of her or worse.
“I’ll be OK,” she mumbles into his chest.
“I know,” he says into her hair.
At long last they pull away and she opens the door to leave. Fighting back tears, he watches as she walks to where he guesses she’s hidden her ride. Once she’s out of sight, he pulls out his phone. It’s time to see his family again.
All clear.