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"Diamonds and Rust" by mystery gift person
Natasha Romanoff watched the monitors with a cautious eye. She sat in a rather cushioned leather seat scanning through them. She guessed she knew where all the government's funding went to--luxury chairs for the security computer staff. Tapping the comlink in her ear, she spoke into the receiver built into her widow-bites bracer.
“Level 8, I count three. Maximoff is in isolation on level 7.”
“Shit, isolation?” Steve’s voice carried through her ear-piece.
“Language, Rogers.” She gave a smirk as her fingers flew over the keyboard, calling up the security hot points and cameras.
“I’m not ever going to live that down.” Steve’s heavy sigh was notable.
“Nope.”
She heard a groan by her chair and didn’t even look down as she kicked her foot out, connecting with the moaning guard.
“Stay down,” she murmured. “I’m concentrating.”
“What was that Nat? I didn’t copy.”
“Not to you, Steve. There are four guards at each entrance to the cell levels. Elevator is 15 feet to the right of your position.”
“I’m on it.”
Her fingers tapped the keys, and the elevator door slid open.
“I bypassed the codes so you can have a free ride.”
“Thanks.”
Natasha observed from her vantage point as Steve went to rescue the others. Locking down communications, she cut the power to level 7 and then soon afterward, level 8. The emergency red lights flared to life, giving everything a demonic, eerie glow on the screens.
She and Steve had hit the security room together, taking out the personnel, before splitting up. Securing this room, she searched the vast prison through the computer to where Barton, Wilson, Maximoff and Lang were being held, while Steve followed her directions and took care of the rest of the guards in the way. Steve enlisted her to help break them out and she didn’t hesitate. She was in, no questions, except—‘what happened to your shield?’. Steve didn’t answer, shutting down his emotions into a stony mask. She didn’t ask any more questions. Natasha officially wrote off the Sokovia Accords as a total shit fest. She was trying to keep everyone together, but instead most of the team ended up in a maximum penitentiary. This is not what she envision or wanted. The Avengers, her adopted family if she cared to admit to herself, were in trouble of totally dissolving and she wasn’t going to let that happen. Call her selfish, but despite her best intentions, she let her emotions enter into her decisions when it came to them.
***
She left first, after Steve released them, sprinting toward the helicopter. Security tried to block her way. She sent 10,000 volts through one guard, elbowing another in the face, before high kicking the last one-- breaking his nose with a bloody crush. It all went easy enough that she didn’t have to use her trademark finishing move. The problem was that the helicopter didn’t have any armament, and she was a sitting duck waiting for the rest to get to the helipad. All she had were her two Glocks and she didn’t want to go killing the guards—yet.
“Rogers, what is your time table. I’m in position now.”
“Five minutes.” His voice sounded strained.
He might as well said five years. She decided to start the flight sequence and get the bird ready to fly. The blades slowly whopped through the air as they spun picking up speed. Bullets peppered at the wind screen, spider webbing into fine hairline cracks. She shot out the door in the direction of the bullets, karma be damned. Aiming to wing the shooter or at least keep his head down. A stray bullet ricocheted and embedded in her thigh. She grimaced as a wash of blinding pain triggered through her leg. Shit. She didn’t need her leg to get numb; she needed her feet for the pedals.
“ETA Rogers, it’s getting hot here.” Her breath came out short, but her voice was steady despite the pain. Her hand was pressing against the wound, warm blood oozing out between her fingers.
“30 seconds.” She swore she heard gunfire through the comlink.
“Don’t be late, you've got a date at the museum.”
“Stop setting me up.”
“Never.”
The cavalry arrived, bursting out the deck door--running full tilt. Maximoff’s powers sputtering out weak streams of red, barely lifting and tossing aside the guards. It was more like just pushing them down. The power damping device that had been locked around the girl’s neck did its damage. Wanda’s powers were not up to full yet. The rest raced to the helicopter. Steve was bringing up the rear, though he could out run them all, hanging back to make sure the rest made it unscathed to the copter.
Wilson got there first, out of breath like he had run a mile in 4 minutes.
“Hey, so you bring my wings?” He smiled big.
“Not funny Sam. Get in.”
He glanced down at her when he climbed in. “You’re hurt?”
“I’ll live.” Natasha shouted out over the whirling blades. ”Hey, everyone get in! The bus is about to leave!”
Clint arrived next.
“Nat, move over. I’m flying this thing.”
“Don’t you trust me?” She gave a wink, but a cold nausea made her break out in cold sweat. Her body was going into shock despite herself. Dammit.
“Yeah, I do. Move over.”
“Okay, but I’m telling Laura what a pain in the ass you are,” she said with a smirk before sliding over.
“She already knows.” He gave a tight grin and settled in the behind the controls.
She didn’t want to argue when she knew he was right. The bullet wound was compromising her ability to fly them out of here. Sure she could do it, but Clint wasn’t hurt and was the best bet to get them out of here in one piece.
The others all piled in and they flew off leaving the prison far, far behind them.
****
Several days later—
Natasha was recovering from her wound. The bullet had gazed her leg, not going deep. But enough that she needed stitches and not to put her full weigh on it until the stitches dissolved. So she was walking with a cane of all things. She decided to go stylish and get a black lacquered walking stick. She wasn’t sure how Steve had acquired T’Challa’s favor, but she was grateful for the highly trained medical staff he was able to call forth to treat everyone’s injuries small and large.
Afterward, she had gone out to Clint’s farm to see Laura and the kids and have some time to herself to recover. Even though Ross had found out Clint had a family, the location was so marred in red tape it would take months to untangle and they would be ready if and when that day came. Feeling stronger, she decided to forgo the walking stick today. With a mug of coffee in her hand, she went to find Clint. He was out by the fields. He had planted squash and pumpkins of all things and was walking the field. She gave a wave when he spotted her. The air was clear here. The scent clean, fresh. The weather humid and warm. The insects whining with an occasionally bird calling. She was beginning to understand why Clint liked it here. It was simply nice. And she could recharge here.
“So relaxing I see. Did you bring me some coffee too?” Clint was brushing off dirt from his pants.
“Nope,” she said. “Laura said you have to first fix the back screen door."
“That slave driver.”
“I knew why I liked her.” Natasha gave a smile and walked over to a post and leaned up against it, resting her leg.
“You haven’t been out here for a while. I’m glad you’re here to see Nathan.” He came up to her and crossed his arms, resting them on the post she was leaning on.
“True. I have been busy.”
“Maybe it was a good thing that Banner wasn’t around when Ross showed up flaunting the Accords. I know there is some bad blood between them.”
“The Accords are not the problem.” Natasha glanced down, pursing her lips before she spoke again. “Having Ross police them is the problem. I’m not sure he is very objective.”
“Nat, I don’t want to argue about the wrong and right of them, all I know there is a hellva lot of fallout from them. And it isn’t going away anytime soon.”
“True.” She looked up, nodding.
The moment stretched as they both took in the open sky and the rolling fields. It all seemed so peaceful, and yet there was a gnawing at the pit of her stomach and a tightening against her temples.
Clint finally broke the silence.
“I wasn’t going to bring to up.” Clint let out a deep sigh. “But you get tense whenever someone mentions Banner’s name.”
Was she that obvious? She thought she was more careful than that. But around Clint, the barriers she had forged with steel and blood lowered a fraction. She let herself accept his friendship and company. He could have killed her that night so long ago. The notorious Black Widow coming in from the cold. Was it a trick? She couldn’t be trusted. But yet this man somehow found it in him—he saw something that was worth saving, and she would be eternally grateful for the rest of her life for giving her the chance to atone for her past.
She just smiled and took a sip of her cooling coffee.
“I really don’t know what to say to that.”
Clint pushed away from the post, straightening up. “I really don’t get why he just upped and left like that?”
Natasha turned her head to glance at him. “I do.”
Clint’s brow furrowed in a questioning look.
“He’s the definition of a vagabond." She gave a shrug. "Get too close, peer under the hood and they move on.” The beginnings of a headache were gripping her temples even though she gave a tight smile. Where can I go? Where in the world am I not a threat? Banner’s words echoed in her head.
“A rolling stone gathers no moss.” Clint nodded, scratching his head.
“Something like that.”
“Are you angry with him?”
“No.” Her shoulders drooped slightly before she corrected them. “I’m more disappointed.”
Natasha turned to fully face Clint, her eyes searching his face before she spoke again. “I confided something personal to him. Something I think Maximoff’s powers pulled up last summer, something long buried. It isn’t an excuse, it just…” She couldn’t explain that moment of weakness, or how she reached out to Banner. They had grown close over the years. Her helping Banner control his beast, but in that instant, a flash, and it all came up. She trusted him. And now it just left a bitter taste in her mouth. She thought he couldn't hurt her, but she was wrong.
Clint’s eyes widen and he took a step closer, “Did…did you fall for him?”
“No…” She said a little too quick then shook her head, smiling. The grip on her coffee mug tightened. And you assume I have to stay? I'm running with it. Her memories taunted her.
“So what is it?” Clint was looking so concerned, all for her benefit, and she wasn’t sure if she deserved it.
“I really don’t know.” She took a deep breath and let it out, and gazed directly into Clint’s eyes. “I gave him something more important than love. I gave him my trust.”
Clint stared at her.
“And…he broke it.” She swallowed a lump that gathered in her throat. The sky wavered slightly, water gathering in her eyes. The biological reaction to sadness and disappointment—nothing more. Or so she told herself.
Clint drew nearer and rested his arm around her shoulders pulling her close to him.
“Don’t you dare get sentimental on me, Barton.” Her lips quirking in an almost smile as she leaned her head on his shoulder.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, giving her shoulder a little comforting squeeze.
“Leave that to your kids.” She lifted her head off his shoulder, and drank the rest of her now cold coffee.
“Speaking of…I put off a trip to the lake before all this. Which I’m going to correct. Want to come?”
“What? No.” She shook her head. Too much wool gathering was playing with her mind and emotions, she needed to get back to work soon.
He pulled away and motioned her to follow him back to the house. She slowly walked side by side with him up the path.
“You sure? Laura wants to talk about nursery décor and that really isn’t my thing.” Clint chuckled, putting his hands in his front pockets.
“Nathan’s room looks just fine. What is he, 16 months now? He’ll be moving out soon…wait.” She stopped walking and Clint kept going. Her mind was clicking a mile a minute, it all tumbling into place. “Wait...” She put her finger up as Clint slowly turned around smiling wide. “Laura’s pregnant, isn’t she?”
Clint ducked his head in a bashful grin. “Afraid so.”
“Congrats.” And she meant it. Clint adored his family and she had a hunch he wouldn’t mind having a larger one.
“I’m going to put them all to work on the farm.” He shook his head laughing, taking a hand out of his pocket to scratch his head.
“Ha, ha.” She started walking and was next to him in a few steps. Her melancholy mood shaking off her like water.
“So come,” he said once they started strolling again toward the house. “To the lake.”
“Yeah.” Natasha reached out and squeezed one of Clint’s hands. “I’ll do it.” And she smiled and this time it reached her eyes.