Abidjan, Côte D'Ivoire (25/12/2004)
Natalia looked at the man, at the way out he was offering her, at the sniper rifle slung over his back, and took his hand.
Clinton Francis Barton, alias Hawkeye, born June 18th 1984. Son of Edith and Harold Barton; both deceased. One brother, Charles Bernard ‘Barney’ Barton, alias Trickshot, whereabouts and status unknown. Barton was trained in Carson’s Travelling Circus, and joined SHIELD age 18. Natalia had done her research.
She herself had been trained in the Red Room since her parents died in 1985, so Barton’s sob story really didn’t affect her the way it probably did most people. Barton had too big a heart for Natalia’s preference - he was a sniper, an assassin, but here he was, not killing her. Barton had been sent after Natalia - the Black Widow, the Slavic Shadow, the Red Death - and a rogue Red Room operative - Eva - who had escaped to Africa.
Natalia had been in southern Spain when Barton caught up to her, running from Eva, out of ammo and desperate. Barton had had a perfect shot, but he made a different call, and now he was letting her lean on him, promising her free ammo, a job, a place to sleep with better human rights and better pay - but she would need to help him. Be his partner. He explained it while they moved as quickly as Natalia’s leg wound would allow her, heading for a SHIELD safe house in Málaga.
“My handler, Coulson, is yelling in my ear right now.” He gave a rueful smile, joking with her like she didn’t have the blood of hundreds of men on her hands, like she was a friend. “I was supposed to kill you. But - okay. You’re coming with me, and I’m going to fight for you to be given a job in SHIELD. Working with me and Phil, doing - well - similar to what you’ve been doing, but knowing that you’ll be saving lives, doing what we do for the right reason. Phil’s basically given in by now-” he winced, and even Natalia could hear the tinny expletives coming from the hearing aid stroke comms unit in his ear, presumably from Phil Coulson, his handler. “Okay, maybe not basically given in, but he will.” He flashed her a toothy, charming grin, and Natalia had no idea what to think to that. “You can join me. We can be a STRIKE team - probably Delta.” He looked proud at that - it was more than Natalia could comprehend. She didn’t know SHIELD, and for all her research, she didn’t know Barton.
“I know you won’t want to go against your friend, but I do need to take out Eva, ‘cause she’s gone kinda off the deep end - she’s taken a primary school hostage, demanding John Danforth - he was at the UN building in Abidjan and was advised to stay there while we sort out the crazy Russian terrorist.” He rubbed Natalia’s shoulder, in a manner almost.. comforting. She had no idea what to make of it. “So, you in?”
Natalia steeled herself with a deep breath, debating the merits of agreeing or disagreeing.
“I will help you kill Eva. She has always been.. a little off the deep end, as you say.” She took a breath. “She is one of the oldest operatives, and killed two of the new Howling Commandos. In the forties. She was never the same, according to the others. I only ask that you do what you have said, and let me stay at SHIELD.” Safe from the Red Room, safe from Madame B, was the unspoken agreement that passed between them when Barton nodded.
“Come on then, Natty, let’s get on with it.”
They reached the safe house; Natalia met Coulson. He seemed polite. Kind towards Barton, cordial towards her. He seemed to be exasperated with Barton, but accepted her. He had made a bed for her, and brought out the med kit, before they arrived.
--
A few days later, when Natalia was ready to walk and the SHIELD agents had had time to charter a plane to Abidjan, her and Barton left the safehouse for the first time to get to the airfield and head out.
It was somewhat freeing, being able to take a plane without going through five different channels, at least two of which were somewhat illegal, and creating a different identity every city she visited. Here, with Barton, she was allowed to be Natalia Alianovna Romanova - though the name he put on her ticket was Natasha Romanoff, and she understood why. There were easily fabricated reasons why Tasha was with Clint. A Romanova and a Barton, though, were less likely to interact.
When they landed in Abidjan, Natalia was struck by the difference in Barton. Gone was the easy-going, barely twenty year-old who had been joking with Coulson and shooting her sideways smiles. Now, she saw Hawkeye - he was driven, and focused. He still had time for quips, and throwaway smiles - he was still charming, but more protective, his eyes tighter, and his glances were more often to sightlines than to her.
It was unlikely that Eva was able to tap into flight and taxi records from a primary school, so they didn’t bother with aliases as they made their way to the school. Natalia gave Barton the run-down on Eva’s contacts and the level of firepower she would probably be packing, and Barton gave her the summary of the plan and the moral standards she was expected to uphold.
As the taxi reached a point about a block away from the school, Barton tipped the driver and pulled Natalia out of the car, putting his hands on her shoulders.
“There’s a building in the process of being demolished, and it has quite a bit of rubble and, more importantly, cover. We’re going to get in there, set up, and I’ll take out Eva,” he unzipped his duffel a little to show her his bow and sniper rifle, and a pleasing collection of guns, “then we take out her muscle, and leave the kids to local PD.” He looked at her, smiled suddenly, and squeezed her shoulder. “You’ll do fine.”
He took out Eva. She was in sight - foolishly - waving her arms about, obviously enraged, when Barton put a bullet in her chest. Natalia couldn’t even bring herself to feel sympathy. Eva was a terrible operative, and a terrible person. She was clearly insane.
When they got back, Coulson gave her a genuine smile, and that alone was worth more than a thousand dollars to Natalia.