It starts with a cat.
At least that’s what Natasha thinks.
Clint would say it started with the mission to Antwerp, but really, Natasha thinks that it’s starts with the cat in the window.
With Clint’s leg broken, he was so bored, she’d suggested letters; emails were easily tracked and she supposed; so could mail, but the postal service still seemed to have more protections than an email Al carrier.
Clint had agreed and the time for a letter to get from Antwerp to New York wasn’t as long as she thought.
It was different to a mission report. Something that that actually had to put thought into, but actually something that over the six weeks, she came to enjoy.
Even the search in the stationary shop, for letter writing stationary and envelopes.
She can’t remember if she’d ever sent a letter.
Not when it hadn’t been coded, and so when she sat down to write the first one, she stared at the paper and then got up and left it there.
She came back with a glass of water and an iced coffee
Staring again, she hears the cat at the back window and stands again.
Natasha looks into the darkness and whispers to the cat to come in, clinking a spoon against the saucer of milk and waiting.
This, she thinks, this is where she started.
.
Clint,
Don’t laugh. There’s a cat here. I’ve named him Liho, for obvious reasons. Remember? He sits with me at night. In fact, if you find fur attached to this letter it’s likely his. Did you know that Antwerp has a stray cat problem? I’m sure there’s more out there, but he’s been the bravest and I think, well, he might be coming back with me.
All is boring here, there’s not much to report on just yet. I’m sure more going on than there though.
How is the leg?
Are you doing the exercises Richard gave you? Follow them, please, otherwise they’ll be on my back to get you to do them.
The house here is quiet, no neighbours; like most of our houses. It makes the nights long.
The previous owners must have been just as bored because there’s some 1000 piece puzzles - I’ve started one. I’m enjoying it. It’s of London buses - a whole scene of the square. I’ll probably have it finished in a day or two.
Perdy and Pongo - the contrived meetings have been nice and easy. Another one tomorrow, all going well.
It’s nearing one in the morning.
I’ll send this off.
Miss you terribly.
.
Nat.
Liho the cat sounds like a keeper. I’ve looked into it, and your apartment has a no animal policy, but the good news is mine doesn’t.
Draw a picture of the cat? I’ve added what I think he looks like below, but you might have better luck in the drawing department.
Glad that all seems to be going well Pongo and Perdy, has anything changed?
The leg.
I’m doing the exercises. Honest.
It’s just shit.
I’m bored, and your not here to keep me company.
We really gotta train others in Russian because you being the only one speaking it fluently, seems actually ridiculous. It’s like, why am I the only one to speak Persian Arabic? It pigeonholes us and sets us up for really specific… holidays. Anyway. Food for thought.
Puzzles sounds like a good way to pass the time.
Coulson has taught me crochet. He said it’s a good way to keep my mind busy, and do maths.
I can crochet a straight line. I’m aiming for a blanket.
Anyway.
Here’s my picture of a cat.
🐈⬛.
Miss you terribly.
.
Clint,
Did you just ask me to move in with you? And a cat? How would I even get him from here to there? I’m not entertaining the thought. Not at all.
I’m also not drawing a picture of the cat, you’ll just have to imagine it. He’s black, with long whiskers. Likes to eat.
Remind you of anyone?
Maybe I should have named him Clint.
Crochet. I want a blanket. Please make out some purple and black in jt. I was looking at ones that didn’t seem that hard - you think Coulson could teach you how?
I’ve been invited to dinner with the two. Maria has given me a bug to place, ironically it looks like a bug. It’s a bit ridiculous but in all hopes of collecting intel.
Do you ever think our lives are weird?
How’s the leg?
How many more weeks til the brace is off?
These missions are so tedious. I finished the puzzle and I went to and bought a new one.
This one is of umbrellas.
Remember when we forgot ours in Manila? There’s just something about storms and rain.
Hopefully not long.
See you soon.
Miss you terribly.
.
Nat,
I’ve been trying to get you to move in for the past two years. You’re the one that maintains that you should stay.
I got the brace off yesterday, the review with the surgeon is next week. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Our lives are weird - don’t you remember the prince in Marrakech with the goat and the camel? I don’t think I can tell that story without craving Turkish Delight.
I feel like the leg is healing okay. I’ve just started hopping, so that’s something. The Physio said I should try shooting arrows on one leg, something I like with something I hate. I’ll try tomorrow and see how we go. Still maybe too unstable.
The puzzle sounds good and I’ve started on your blanket, I’d send a photo but you’ll just have to wait and see.
Did the bug go okay? I’ve redrawn Liho, though long whiskers was not much to go by.
Do you think you’ll be done soon? Maria said two more weeks but maybe longer?
I’m bored.
Miss you terribly.
.
Clint,
He’s beating her.
I tapped the bug and listened in, just in case, I didn’t want to be walking into anything.
Maria said not to do anything, and I know, it’s just part of it, I know she choose him, but what if?
I can help. I know I can get her out of there, help in some way. Maybe she can be useful.
I can’t do nothing.
I’m glad the surgeon gave you the good news, thanks for your letter - hope I’ll see you soon.
Wish me luck… just in case.
Love you.
.
Nat,
I swear to god if you’ve done something stupid.
I’m on my way, they wouldn’t clear me so making my own way, this might arrive afterwards.
Maria says you haven’t checked in, I don’t know if you’re in hiding or got rid of your phone or did what you set out to fix, but please if you have some way of making contact, I’m on the burner phone from Ottawa.
Just, call me.
I’m hoping this letter is redundant. I’m only writing it in hopes it gives you another mode of contact.
Who’s going to feed the cat?
I’ll talk to you soon.
Love you.
.
Clint finds the safe house empty.
He opens the door with a lock pick and his gun out.
He dumps the post on the table and inwardly cringes to find his letter in the pile.
“Nat,” he whispers, “what did you do?”
He calls Maria and tells her where he is, taking the verbal beat down, as he clears the house.
“I’ll find her,” he tells his friend, when she finishes berating him.
Maria hangs up, and Clint knows that she’s probably going to tell Fury, and he thinks with any luck, they might send some back up.
He shrugs, mostly to himself and and cringes at his sore leg from the flight and walk to the house.
Walking around the house again, he hears noise from the patio, raising his gun, he finds a cat with the longest whiskers, staring at him.
.
Natasha wipes the blood from her cheek, the swelling perhaps less now.
She looks over to the woman (Perdy they’d named, her but really, she had to keep correcting herself to say her real name.)
“Kira, what is this place?”
The woman, dressed delicately in a dress like Natasha, looks the spy up and down.
“Who are you.. Really? Because I know you’re not someone who works in a bookshop who just happens to know his native language.”
Natasha shrugs.
“I’m nobody.”
“You took a beating for me, you’re not nobody.”
Kira walks up to Natasha, now sitting on the floor as the dizziness from the blows to the head make her feel like she’s going to drop.
She squats down next to her and offers her a handkerchief.
Natasha takes it, and smiles, feeling like she’s in a 1950’s film.
“You’re not nobody, are you? You just didn’t happen to speak the same language, as my husband, and then just happen to drop by whilst he was in a rage?”
She sits down.
“It’s too much coincidence,” she finishes.
“Do you think he’ll think so, too?” Natasha asks, wincing at the obviousness laid out in front of her.
Kira laughs.
“No? But you have got yourself in a pickle, because this is the dungeon.”
Natasha looks around.
The basement of the house is spacious, bare and cold and concrete. A dog bowl sits in the corner, a toilet and rope.
“What is this place?”
Kira looks away, her cheeks red as if in embarrassment.
“He usually puts me here when I’ve said something to upset him, maybe if he has others come to stay and he doesn’t want me around… it’s just a room.”
“A prison,” Natasha mutters.
“Maybe,” Kira sighs.
“But you’re here now too.”
Natasha understands the fear in her voice, the strange choking on last word of the sentence.
“Is that a good thing?” Natasha asks, raising herself up to walk around the room, wincing at her likely broken rib that she’d felt snap as he’d kicked her down the stairs.
“No,” Kira replies, “I don’t think it is.”
.
Clint looks at the large house, it was beautiful in a way, despite the likely horrors it held.
Day had broken, and with minimal sleep, he’d decided to take a walk, stretch his stiff legs and find where Natasha had gone.
Maria had commented that she had only missed the last phone in, it was nothing to be worried about, but judging by Liho’s insistence for food and the letters that he’d sent not being picked up, Clint felt that nothing good had happened.
“He’s beating her,” her letter had said.
Maria had begrudgingly send the mission report, the goals and dossier on Arvin Yager, the low level arms dealer. The only reason it was on shields radar was because he seemed to be selling more to Hydra, and Fury wanted to get a handle on just how much they needed to keep tabs on him.
Simple really.
He shakes his head and adjusts his clipboard, raising his hand to knock on the door.
No one answers.
He knocks again, unsure now, but not yet willing to give up.
The uniform from the security company was an easy getup, and he honestly wondered if Natasha was inside.
Giving up and walking away from the door, he takes one last look at the house and vows to come back.
.
Kira looks down at her, holding her hair back as Natasha vomits into the toilet.
“I’m sorry,” she apologises, “I’m not usually like this.”
Kira laughs, “what? Concuss?”
She sits down next to Natasha and hands her a bottle of water.
“Where did you get that from?”
Kira removes four bricks, revealing a small pantry of crackers and a couple of bottles of water.
“One time, I was down here for a week, I accidentally walked in on a meeting he was having. I had got up to get a drink of water and didn’t realise there were other men in the house, and well, he didn’t like that.”
She takes out a packet of the plain crackers and offers one to Natasha.
Taking the bottle of water, Natasha sips it slowly.
“So you stocked up?”
Kira nods.
“This room, unsurprisingly, does not get locked unless there’s someone locked inside.”
She gives a small smile.
“I figured I’d be back in here at some point, so may as well add some comforts. There’s a couple of blankets in here too.”
Natasha tips some of the water onto her hand and uses it to wipe her face, unsurprised to find blood on her hand when she pulls it away.
“Kira, why do you stay?”
The woman doesn’t answer, and Natasha doesn’t push it. Likely, there are a myriad of reasons, all of which don’t help in the moment.
“Will you come with me, if we get out of this?”
Eyeing her suspiciously, Kira picks up the food, and bites down.
“Why would you help me?”
Natasha feels her face throb, her ribs pull and her head pound.
Why indeed.
She didn’t need to help, didn’t need to do anything, it’s probable that even if she had done nothing, then she’d be going home and back to Clint.
“I thought… I thought I could help.”
She shrugs, and regrets the motion.
“I don’t like bullies.”
Kira heaves a deep breath.
“He was always a bastard, but when you come from the family I do, you get used to it.”
Natasha doesn’t meet her eyes.
“No one will find us here, we’re under the house, he puts his desk on top. Once, I almost…”
But what she almost got to do Natasha would never know, as noises filtered down the stairs.
“Move to the corner,” Natasha tells her, pushing her gently, and grabbing a loose brick.
The door opens and a body appears at the top, pausing.
“Nat?” Clint calls, “you down there?”
Kira cocks her head.
“Nat?”
.
The escape is anticlimactic, and in hindsight, Natasha wonders just how concussed she was.
Thankful for the darkness and light by the moon, she follows Clint to his car, her hand firmly holding onto Kira’s as she leads the woman away.
The pull of hesitation and apprehension only strengthening her resolve to get the woman away.
“It’s okay,” she assures, “it’ll be okay.”
She’s sure of it.
If someone had done that for her, if someone had helped her and all the other little girls, maybe helped her mother…
She didn’t like bullies.
Clint moves slower than she’s used to, but the careful escape means they don’t have to move fast.
It’s clever.
All the way to the dock and the boat, they move surely.
Only when they’re away, does Clint talk, look over her injuries and tend to them with a softness she didn’t know she missed.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” he asks Kira, after sharing a look with Natasha.
“I think so,” she says, her voice quiet, perhaps in a sort of shock.
“I don’t think I should be here, I.. he’s going to get mad, you see. Angry? I.. When he finds me…”
“He’s not going to find you,” Clint and Natasha say in unison.
The power of their voices combined make her silent.
“He won’t,” Clint promises.
“How do you know… how do you know I’m not bad as well?”
Kira’s voice trembles at the thought, and Natasha offers her water.
“Because she believes in you,” Clint tells her, “and you’d never make her a liar, would you?”
Kira looks at Natasha, her eye now swollen, bruises on her face angry and colourful.
“No,” she agrees.
“I wouldn’t.”
.
It turns out that Kira is far more useful than Fury had ever thought. No one pays attention to the timid wife, the one who blends into the background, but has a surprisingly amazing memory.
“I used to have to remember all the things he wanted, I trained myself to remember all the people he worked with, because well, if I got their coffee or tea order wrong, he wouldn’t be kind about it.”
The web of Hydra seems to open, and it’s constituents revealed.
The report that Natasha writes, gets rewritten by Clint.
“You didn’t go in there because you thought she was getting beaten,” he rewrites, “you went in because you thought you could turn an asset.”
Natasha pushes him and takes her computer back.
“Lies with the truth?”
Clint smiles.
“Lies with the truth.”
.
Natasha feels her phone buzz, alerting her to an email.
The hot sun of Bangkok does nothing for her mood as she pulls her hat over her face and resists the urge to wipe sweat off her face.
The email decrypts.
Clint.
She smiles.
Only a day and he can’t resist touching base. It’s like he never runs out of things to say.
Nat, reads the email.
Your cat has made itself at home.
My home.
Since you dropped him off, I think that my whole house is one big furball.
How much fur does he lose?
What do I feed him? I know you said, but I really need these things written.
You know dogs aren’t this hard?
I do like the purring though. There’s something about it that makes me feel good. Am I a cat person now?
I’m glad your mission is short, I’m bored.
Debriefing Kira should be your job, but I suppose considering I should still be resting the knee, I’ll forgive you this one time.
How was the plane ride? The camera, I have a few ideas for after the mission, can you bring it home?
Your cat and I miss you, so come home quick.
See you in a couple of days.
Miss you terribly.
.