#Jonathan was supposed to look sick and now he looks drunk. neat!

[x-is-okay]

ummm gulps

can you pretty please do some sketches of umm. sock and jonathan cuddling or smth idk man /not forcing

//Swallow properly before entering my domain you heathen!

//Anyways yeah sure no worries! I probably couldn't benefitted by looking for any refs on how to draw people cuddling but like,, winging it was funnier and far more painful : )! Hope you don't mind them being rough and not colored, haha

// I'd almost say I like these four, haven't decided yet.

[averagemarvelbitch]

Pride and Joy

Summary: AU where Tony Stark has a daughter, but then shit happens.

(Future Stony/ mentions of child abuse)

Chapter Four

March, 2005

Washington, DC, USA.

The table was covered in pictures. Men and women, of all ages and races, staring back at him with dead, unseeing eyes. Strangled, poisoned, shot, stabbed, drowned. A particular man, probably in his mid thirties, stood out. His skull had been crushed; brain, bone and blood covered the cold floor. Even after years on the job, Clint Barton still felt sick every time he had to look at scenes like that. He was no stranger to human cruelty. He had known, from a very early age, what people were capable of when given the right incentive. Still, seeing things like this, it always upset his stomach.

He took the file once again, re-reading the information SHIELD had managed to acquire on the infamous Black Widow. Truth be told, there wasn’t much. They knew she was a woman. They knew she’d been trained by the Red Room, some sort of academy for assassins and spies, as discovered by Director Peggy Carter years ago. And that was it. That was all the information they had. They didn’t know what she looked like. They couldn’t even confirm if all the kills credited to her had actually been her work. The Black Widow was a ghost and it was Clint’s mission to put an end to her.

He had forty-eight hours before the mission. SHIELD had planted the information that Andrei Mikhailovsky was in Germany and currently negotiating with an American agent, trading Russian secrets for asylum. The plan was to let the man wander through the city and go to a specific location while Clint kept an eye on him from afar. It was a risky plan, but it was their only chance to finally neutralize the Black Widow.

“Already familiar with all the details, I hope, Barton”, said a voice from the door. Clint didn’t turn nor did he acknowledge the new comer in any way, continuing to stare at the pictures on the table as if the other man wasn’t even there.

The man rolled his eyes and shook his head as he carefully approached the archer. As he got closer, Clint seemed to finally notice his presence, turning to look at him. The archer smiled and quickly turned on his hearing aids.

“Hey, Phil. Just getting acquainted with our little spider over here.”

“A very deadly little spider, try not to forget that part”, the older man answered, pressing his hands on the table and pushing his upper-body forward to take a better look at the pictures. He took one (the man with the broken skull) on his hands, examining it with a frown. “Very, very deadly spider”.

“I’ve face worse, you know that”.

“She’s killed half the agents we sent after her, Clint. And the other half just disappeared. Excuse me for worrying”, he said, throwing the picture back on the table.

“Hey”, Clint said softly, standing up and taking Coulson’s hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. “It’ll be fine. I’m pretty damn good at this job, boss”.

“This is highly unprofessional”, he answered, but did not move his hand.

“Oh boy, if you think this was unprofessional, you’re really not gonna like what I’m gonna do next”.

Clint did not give Coulson time to answer, pulling the older man to a deep kiss. He felt strong hands on his hips, pulling him even closer, as he circled Coulson’s neck with his own. God, he thought to himself, tongue caressing every inch of his partner’s mouth, I could kiss this man forever.

Too soon, they broke the kiss, foreheads touching as they tried to catch their breaths. They stayed like that for a moment, just breathing and admiring each other’s faces. Coulson touched Clin’ts red lips softly with his thumb, all his blood immediately going south when the younger man bit on it with a smirk. He took a step back, adjusting his suit and returning to his usual, very professional self.

“You have a plan to catch. Don’t die out there.”

“Oh, don’t worry, boss, I have plans this weekend that I really can’t miss”, Clint replied with a wink.

Coulson had his back turned to him as he left the room so Clint couldn’t see his face, but he’s willing to bet his bow and arrow that his partner was fighting a smile.

Clint couldn’t stop thinking about the Black Widow. He read and re-read the file a thousand times on his way to Germany. Peggy Carter’s neat handwriting was oddly soothing even though the words written brought Clint no peace of mind.

“According to the information acquired, the place is known as the Red Room, an academy for the training of assassins and spies in the Soviet Union. The place was discovered during a mission, in 1984, in which the Howling Commandos, SSR agent Jack Thompson and I infiltrated a facility believed to be a Leviathan base camp in Belarus.

Upon investigation, we discovered the facility had a structure similar to that of a school, with many rooms posing as classrooms, including a video room we believe was used to dispense subliminal messages through movies.

A young girl, around 10 years of age, was found in the facility. She stabbed Timothy “Dum Dum” Dugan, managed to steal his weapon and shot Jonathan “Junior” Juniper, who died instantly.

We believe the Red Room trained young girls to become elite assassins and undercover operatives through a process of indoctrination and desensitizing, teaching them hand-to-hand combat and other tactical skills. We also believe other facilities similar to the one found exist throughout the Soviet Union.”

It was hard to believe something like this existed. Where did they even get the “young girls”?, he thought as he looked out the window, staring at the clouds. The pictures kept showing again and again on his mind. The brutality, the complete lack of empathy, it astonished. The worst part was he didn’t even know why he was so shocked with what he had read and seen. He had faced worse people in his life, both as a SHIELD agent and as a dumb teenager, but this one woman, knowing what she had probably gone through and what she had done, it made him sick to his stomach.

Maybe Phil was right. Maybe he really was projecting his own emotions on this target. He had had a very complicated childhood, followed by a crappy adolescence. Clint had gone through things no child should have to go through, and he knew in his heart that, if Phil Coulson hadn’t given him a chance that day, he’d probably be the one being target by SHIELD today. He owned his life to Phil and SHIELD. They had given him a chance to be someone else, something more than just the dishonest, murdering piece of shit that others had made of him. What if someone gave this woman the chance I was given?, he couldn’t help but wonder, would she choose the right side if someone gave her the chance?

February, 1983

Waverly, Iowa.

Barney was late. Again.

He really has no self-preservation skills, Clint thought as he slowly dragged a huge bag of garbage outside. Barney was supposed to be helping Clint clean the shop, but, as usual, he’d left early in the morning and had yet to return. God, Clint could already hear his father’s booming voice inside his head. You were supposed to help your brother, Barney, he would scream, you need to pull your weight if you want to live under my roof, you useless fucking cunt. Then Barney would scream back, because of course he would, he did every single time, the utter moron, and their father would get angrier and angrier and just smack both of them a good few times before passing out drunk in the living room. Sometimes having a brother fucking sucks, he thought to himself, throwing the bag into the garbage bin, trying so very hard not to rip it because, really, the last thing he needed right now was to be covered in rotten meat and bones.

 He went back to the shop, wrinkling his noise at the stench of old, dead animal, running straight to the sink to try and wash it off.

“Hey, shrimp”, he heard from behind him, turning around to see Barney, who was entering the shop with a big smile on his face. Clint was immediately suspicious.

“Where the hell were you? I had to take all the trash out by myself, asshole”.

“Hey, chill. I was helping Mr. Connor out with some boxes”.

“You’re supposed to be helping ME”.

“Yeah, well, that fat ass Harold doesn’t pay me”, he replied with a smile, putting his hand inside his pocket and taking two little pieces of chocolate out, “but Mr. Connor does. Here, take them, I already ate two!”

Clint didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly patted his hands on his worn out, dirty pants, trying to get them dry as fast as possible, before lunging himself at Barney, taking both pieces of chocolate. He put one in his mouth and almost moaned.

“Oh, man, that’s one of the good ones”.

“Yeah, none of that shit that tastes like cardboard! He gave me the expensive ones!”

“Awesome!”, the younger brother replied, already chewing the other piece with a  satisfied sigh.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s pretty good, now get your ass upstairs, I’ll finish up here”.

“Okay. Only thing left is mopping the front”.

“Yeah, I’ll do it. Take a shower, you stink”.

Sometimes having a brother can be pretty cool.

March, 2005.

Nuremberg, Germany.

It was cold. Too fucking cold. God, how he hated snow. He was wearing the new suit SHIELD had given him. It was warmer than the last one because science. The girl ― was it Fitz? Or Simmons? He always got confused with those two ― had explained to him every single new feature of his suit and Clint pretended to listen with interest while debating inside his own head what would be the best way to ask the girl if he could take one of the donuts on the nearby table. Still, even with all the thingamabobs they had put in his suit, it was fucking cold. Too fucking cold.

He was at the top of a building, bow and arrow on his back, watching Andrei intently and trying to find anything suspicious or out of place. Missions like this during winter were the worse. Everybody wore big coats with scarves covering their faces. Stupid winter.

“Hey, Andrei, you doing good, man”, Clint said on his comms, “you’re almost at the creepy ass house, just a little longer”.

“Do you see her?”, the Russian asked in a whisper, sounding terrified.

“Not yet, but don’t worry, I got you covered”.

“Why do I have to carry briefcase? Waste of time, makes it hard to run”.

“Come on, man, you were a spy. You know this shit. She sees the briefcase, she’s gonna think you’ve got something important there. That way she’ll only try to kill you in a place where she has easy access to it”.

Andrei huffed. “If you think that would stop Black Widow, you are more fool than I thought”. Clint decided to ignore the reply completely and just kept following him.

He knew the ex-KGB was scared. Damn, if it was him at Andrei’s place, he’d be scared shitless too. The man was a sitting duck, a literal walking target, and he was being hunted by one of the best assassins in the business. He had a damn good reason to be terrified. Clint couldn’t blame him for that.

It was a hard mission. Clint knew that. Andrei knew that. So many things could go wrong. The cold and the snow were problematic, he had no idea what the Black Widow looked like or even if they had really sent her in the first place. He had no idea what to expect from this. It’s true that was Clint’s specialty, going into the unknown with nothing but his courage, bow and arrow and devilish good looks. But this, this was another level entirely. Protecting a mobile target from an unknown threat was always hard. Protecting a mobile target from someone who once killed a man in the middle of a party with 400 people without being detected was, well, let’s just say it again, Andrei had a very real reason to be terrified.

Soon enough, Andrei reached the final destination of his little tour. And that’s when Clint saw her. She wore a black overcoat and had a blue scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, her red hair falling down like a fire waterfall. He barely had time to draw an arrow before she took out running. She was fast, even with the snow. Suddenly, a knife was flying through the air, aimed straight at Andrei’s head. She was fast and skilled. Well, I’m fast and skilled too, lady.

The arrow hit the knife with incredible precision. Clint smiled, proud of his own work and looked at where the supposed Black Widow was. She looked up, most likely trying to find him.

“Andrei, you might wanna run, man”, Clint said over the comms. It was pointless, really, because Andrei was no fool. He had already taken off, running as fast as he could inside the house.

The Black Widow soon followed. Clint aimed an arrow at her leg. He missed. Goddamn it, he thought, already drawing another arrow and trying to hit his target through the windows. Missed again.

“God fucking damn it”, he exclaimed, taking a “rope arrow” and aiming just above the window on the second floor. Using his bow, he quickly descended through the rope, slamming his body at the widow, glass going everywhere. He heard a gunshot. Shit shit shit.

Ok, so Clint was man enough to admit, the woman was terrifying. She stared at him like she was ready to cut him mouth to anus, open him up like a Christmas ham and feast on his insides. So, yeah, terrifying.

They fought. She was good. She was better than good. The Black Widow fought like she had been born for it. She fought like someone who had been fighting since preschool and had no problem in using every means necessary to win a fight. Clint knew his orders. Coulson’s voice suddenly appeared in his head as she broke his nose.

No one is going to cry too much over Andrei. Your priority is to eliminate the target. If it comes between saving his life and eliminating the Black Widow, you eliminate the target. Do you understand, agent?

He reached behind his back, trying desperately not to choke on his own blood as she pressed his own bow harder at his throat. Finally, he managed to grab one of the sedative arrows. He quickly covered his mouth and nose as pink smoke came out of his quiver. The Black Widow let go. Clint fell to the ground, covering his face and trying not to breath. He heard the sound of a body hitting the wooden floor and turned back. The Black Widow was down.

The smoke dissipated. Clint turned around, still sitting on the floor, and looked at her. He had a gun. He could make it fast, easy. She was heavily sedated, she wouldn’t even feel it. It would be mercy, really.

There’s no point in interrogating her. She won’t talk. Torture doesn’t work and she has no weak spots. Eliminate her on sight.

But shit. She looked young. Barely an adult. God, she was probably the same age he was when he… Damn. I had a second chance. Doesn’t she deserve one too? He knew it was different, but… Was it really? Were she and him really that different? She’d had a shitty childhood, much shittier than Clint’s, that’s for sure. Harold had been an abusive dick, but he was no Red Room. They had taken everything from her. Just like they had taken everything from Clint. Maybe, maybe she was more like him than he thought. Maybe all she needed was a chance to be good.

He turned his head, looking straight at Andrei’s body, blood covering the floor. Shit, he thought, getting up and walking towards the woman, Coulson is going to make me sleep on the couch for a year.

September, 1985.

Waverly, Iowa.

It was a good night. And Clint was aware how rare good nights were in his house, so he was determined to enjoy it. His mother was making steaks. Steaks! He couldn’t remember the last time he ate steaks. He started salivating just thinking about it. His father only ever let them have the crappy meats, the ones no one would buy. But today he had been in a good mood. According to Barney, some fancy guy had bought a shitload of meat from the shop and Harold was smiling from ear to ear. And when Harold was happy ― which was VERY rare ― so was the rest of the family.

Clint was sitting at the table, drawing in a piece of paper. He sometimes raised his head and watched his mother for a few minutes, cooking and humming a song he didn’t recognize. She looked happy. She deserved to be happy. He smiled. Barney was cutting potatoes, sometimes glancing longingly at the steaks. The whole kitchen smelled great. It was a great night. So, of course, Harold had to ruin it.

He came into the kitchen so fast Clint didn’t even notice him before he grabbed his hair and pulled him from his chair. He cried out in pain, trying to escape his father’s death grip.

“WHERE IS THE MONEY, YOU FUCKING CUNT”, he screamed, eyes wide and face as red as a tomato. He stank of alcohol. This is not good, was all Clint could think of.

“Let him go, Harold!”

“HE STOLE THE MONEY, EDITH, HE CLEANED OUT THE REGISTER, I KNOW IT WAS YOU BOY, WHERE IS IT”.

“He didn’t steal nothing, you fucking drunk, put him down”, Barney exclaimed, and when the man didn’t listen, he took the knife he was using before and waved it around menacingly, “PUT HIM DOWN”.

That finally got his father’s attention. He let go of Clint like he was a dirty sack of potatoes and stepped closer to his older son.

“Oh, is that how it is. You’re a big man now, aren’t you, you useless piece of shit? I bet it was you, wasn’t it. You’ve always been a greedy little bastard”.

“No one took your money, Harold, for the love of God”, Edith begged, putting herself between her son and her husband, “please, stop this!”

But Harold was having none of it. He took his wife’s arm and twisted it, pulling her closer. “You want to protect these little fuckers? FINE”.

He started dragging her out of the kitchen. “Stay with your brother”, Edith said when Barney tried to go after her, “stay with him, okay, dear?”

She was obviously trying not to cry, but both children could see the solitary tear streaming down her face. Harold slammed the kitchen door closed. Barney went straight for Clint, hugging his younger brother. “It’s gonna be okay”, he whispered as the boy covered his ears with both hands and cried, “it’s gonna be alright”.

This could have been a good night.

March, 2005.

Nuremberg, Germany.

She was still out, which was good, because Clint had no clue what he was going to say to her. Shooting people with a bow and arrow? Easy. Infiltrating the heavily guarded mansion of the boss of one of the most dangerous cartels in the world? Ugh, at least give him a challenge. Now, social interactions of any kind? Yeah, that was a big no-no.

So here he was, sitting on the floor, eating some cup noodles while he stared at the red headed woman in front of him, thinking what the hell he was going to say to her and how the hell he was going to convince her to join SHIELD. They were inside an old police station used by the agency as a safe house. There was no one there but Clint and the Black Widow. He had bound both her arms and legs and put her in one of the cells, locking the door and hiding the key. Not that any of this would actually stop her, he thought, wincing as he touched his broken nose. But it was the best he could do right now and that would just have to do.

He had called Coulson. Informed him that Andrei was dead, that they needed a cleanup crew to take care of the scene and that he had taken a very much alive Black Widow to a SHIELD safe house, surprise! Needless to say, his partner was not happy. He maintained a professional stance, like he always did, the perfect bastard, but Clint knew his Phil enough to notice the strain in his voice, the worry in his words. There were so many ways this could go wrong. So many. She could manage to run away and inform her employers that SHIELD was on to them. She could kill Clint in the process, leaving Phil to bury a disfigured body (if there even was a body in the end). She could accept Clint’s offer, betray him, steal a shitload of SHIELD’s secrets and return to Russia a hero. So many damn things could go wrong. But Clint knew that, if he didn’t do this, if he didn’t try, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

Phil had been very honest with him. You’re projecting, agent Barton, he had said over the phone, she’s not you. She’s nothing like you. She doesn’t have what you have. And Clint knew what he meant. She didn’t have a Barney. She didn’t have a burning regret that destroyed her very being and reminded her everyday of how easy it was to succumb to a life of hatred and revenge. But maybe she had something else. Something that would make leaving this life of torture and complete lack of autonomy an easy choice, a smart choice. He could only hope that was the case. He was too young and handsome to die a horrible death on the hands of the world’s best assassin.

The woman stirred slightly. She moaned in a soft tone, moving her head slowly to the side, her eyes blinking as she woke up. The sedative was a strong one. She wouldn’t be able to actually move her body for at least three more hours, so that gave Clint plenty of time to talk to her. I hope. He continued to eat his noodles and stare at her. She stared right back at him, her face giving away nothing. She can put Coulson’s Neutral Face of Displeasure right out of business.

“Hi. I’m Clint”.

Oh for the love of fuck, did I just say “Hi, I’m Clint” to the world’s greatest assassin? What the ever loving fuck is wrong with me?

She said nothing, just kept on staring at him with dead eyes.

“So… I’d offer you some noodles, but I’m pretty sure you’d just get sick and throw up all over the floor, which would be gross. And, I’m gonna be very honest here with you, I’m also scared that if I get any closer you’re gonna bite my ear off and use it as a weapon”.

Still, she said nothing, but he could see the ghost of a smile on her lips.

“So, yeah. To summon up, I’m Clint. I work for SHIELD and they sent me here to kill you. So… Yeah, nice to meet you”.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry?”

She cocked her head slightly to the side, assessing him. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

“Oh, right. Yeah, no, I made a different call. I thought we could, you know, chat a bit, talk about the weather, our favorite TV shows, that sort of thing. You watch Friends?”

“You want information, then. You’re wasting your time”.

“No, no”, he replied, stuffing his mouth with more noodle, which made a bit hard to properly talk, “I mean, I’m not a complete sucker, you feel like giving me some information, I’m not gonna say no. But no, that’s not the reason you’re still alive. I mean, I read your file. SHIELD knows there is nothing we could do to you to make you talk, so yeah, that would’ve been a complete waste of time”.

“You talk too much”. Her voice was still a bit sluggish, but Clint could still hear the heavy Russian accent.

 “So I’ve been told. So… Uh, are you by any chance looking for a new job? ‘Cause we could definitely use you at SHIELD. Plus we’ve got medical, dental, and the pay isn’t bad either”.

“You... Are you trying to hire me?”

“Yeah. Wasn’t it obvious?”

She raised an eyebrow, looking a bit confused. “I’d say this is the most bizarre job interview I’ve ever had, but then I’d be lying”.

“Good, Honesty is good. Honesty is the main foundation of any relationship. So, you’re interested?”

“If I say yes, will you let me go?” When Clint hesitated to answer, she smiled, “That’s what I thought”.

“Hey, come on, we just met. We need time to bond, to trust each other”.

“My employers trust me. You and your SHIELD could never. I’d be watched all the time, every step, every move. It doesn’t sound like a very fun work environment”.

“Do they? Your employers”, he clarified when she cocked her head in question, “Do they trust you? Or do they think you’re a pretty robot who can’t think for herself and just does as she’s told without ever questioning orders?”

She smiled. “So you think I’m pretty”.

“I’ve met someone else from the Red Room. Her name was Dorothy Underwood. SHIELD has some footage of her questioning. I noticed a few things, you know. Like the fact that she didn’t develop a personality, probably because the Red Room keeps their assets a blank slate to make it easier to control them and to mold them into whatever character they need to become to achieve their goals. Three people interrogated her. She mimicked them, like a mirror, the way they talked, the way they moved. Then, another person would come in, and she would change completely. You’re not like that, though. I can see it. Which means that you’re not a mindless puppet. Am I wrong?”

The Black Widow did not move. She did not take her eyes from him. Her face was as blank as it was when she first woke up. She said nothing.

“I don’t think I’m wrong. In fact, I’ll go as far as to say that maybe you’ve thought about leaving. You’ve thought about what it would be like to make your own decisions, to be your own person. To be more than just the Black Widow, to be… What’s your name again?”

“Natalia”, she replied in a whisper, “Natalia Romanova”.

Clint wasn’t expecting that. Maybe she was lying, just saying whatever name popped in her head, but… She looked sincere. She was looking down, pensive. Like she herself couldn’t believe she had just said that. If it was true, if that was really her real name, then maybe this would work. Maybe Clint was getting somewhere with all his crazy talk.

“Is that your real name? Or is that the name they gave you?”

“My real one. My parents gave me this name”.

“What happened to them?”

“Too poor. Hungry. Cold. They were offered money. They needed money. They could always make another child”.

The words. They sounded rehearsed, like the woman had been made to repeat them again and again and again until she knew them but heart. Until they became her truth.

“Is that what they told you?” Clint asked. She did not look at him, nor did she answer. “Where are your parents now?”

“I don’t know”.

“Wouldn’t you like to know them? Wouldn’t you like to know if that’s the truth?”

“What does it matter?” She answered, looking up at him. Her eyes hid some much pain Clint could almost feel it. “The past cannot be changed. The truth will change nothing”.

“You’re right. You can’t change your past. But you can change your future.”

“What future is there for me? You say you read my file. You know what I have done. What future is there for someone like me?”

“If I can have a future, so can you”.

This time, she laughed a humorless laugh. “I have stolen, and killed, and tortured in the name of my country”.

“I know. I’ve done that for SHIELD too. And…” He stopped, looking down at his now cold noodles with a sad smile. “I’ve done that before SHIELD too”.

The Black Widow was silent. Then, “Tell me your story”, she whispered.

Clint looked at her, surprised. “Okay. My father was an abusive drunk. He would hit us and shout at us. My mother took the heat when she could. They died when my brother and I were young. Car accident. He was drunk.”

Natalia nodded. “And then?”

“Foster homes. Hundreds of them. Well, not really, I’m clearly exaggerating, but yeah, a lot. Last one was the Millers. Nice couple, took Barney and me to the Circus one time. Three days later, Mr. Miller punched my brother so hard he had a concussion. We got the hell out of there after that. One abusive asshole had been enough to last a lifetime, thank you very much”.

“Where did you go?”

“The Circus. We hid on the back of one of their trucks. Trick-Shot, one of the carnies, found us. Gave us a lecture about hitching a ride without asking permission and told us he would call social services to take us home. We told him what had happened. He said ”fuck the system” and let us stay. Barney and I, we worked hard. I learned this…”, he said, patting the bow and arrow beside him on the ground, “… And I was good. Well, you saw it”.

“I did. It was quite impressive. For a man in a purple unitart”, she replied, with mirth.

“Yeah, well, I was the best. And I liked it there. But Barney wanted to leave. He wanted to join the army, so he got out. And I stayed. And I trusted the wrong people. His name was Jacques, the Swordsman. I caught him stealing money from the Circus. He beat me up to a bloody pulp, worse than even Harold ― my asshole of a father”, he explained when the red head shot him a confused look, “worse than he had ever done. He would’ve killed me if Trick-Shot hadn’t found us. He drove the asshole away and helped me get better. Then he told me about this business of his, easy money, easy job. We stole from some people, killed some other on the way. I figured, he saved me, you know. Least I can do is help him out. So I did. Then, one day he told me he had a big job, a game changer”.

“What was the mission?”

“Steal from Marko, the guy who loaned money to Jacques.”

He has a lot of security, so we need a sniper. You kill all the guards with that bow and arrow of yours while I get inside and take the money.

“What happened?”, Natalia asked in a whisper.

Clint huffed, shaking his head. “Turns out, my brother had done real great in the army. He became a CIA agent. His first job was to cover Marko’s ass. Protect him at all costs. I didn’t know it was him. Put an arrow through his heart”. Clint? Is that you? “He recognized me. He was coughing blood, could barely talk. Trick-Shot knew the whole time. He didn’t tell me”. No, no, please, Barney, no! “He died in my arms. I got pissed. Tried to kill Trick-Shot, but he was better than me. He took one of my own arrows, impaled me to a tree with it and left. Told me he would come back to kill me properly some day. SHIELD showed up”.

“And offered you a job?”

“Hell no!”, he laughed, “Arrested me. I told them all I knew, didn’t care either way. Than Co… This agent showed up. He tried to convince me that I was worth a damn, that I could do some good. It took him months to actually get through my thick skull, but hey, I had just killed my brother and been betrayed, again, by someone I considered family. It was hard to trust anybody else at that moment, especially a guy in a fancy suit”.

“How did he convince you?”

“He offered me something I desperately wanted but didn’t think I could have”.

“What was that?”

“A good life”.

Natalia was silent. She looked away from Clint, a thoughtful expression on her face. Clint waited.

“I will do it. I will be loyal to your SHIELD. I will do everything they tell me to do. But there is one condition”.

“Name it. I’ll see what I can do”.

“There is a girl. In the Red Room. I trained her. I want her”.

“To be an agent?”

“To be a person”, Natalia replied immediately, looking at Clint with determination, “she never submitted to the handlers, not the way others have. She follows the rules, she pretends to be compliant, but I know her. She will slip, make a mistake soon, and she’ll be killed for her actions. I can’t let that happen”.

“Ok. That sounds reasonable. I’ll talk to SHIELD, we’ll track her down. We won’t stop until we find her”.

“Then I’m yours”.

And in that moment, looking into Natalia’s eyes, he finally realized. As it turned out, they did have something in common. They both had someone they wanted to protect, someone they failed, someone they desperately needed to have safe and sound even if it cost them everything. In Clint’s case, it was already too late. Barney was dead, he was never coming back. But Natalia still had a chance. Natalia could still safe her Barney.

“What’s the girl’s name?”

“Anastasia”, she replied with longing in her voice, “her name is Anastasia”.