STRIKE Team Delta: 26 missions

This was not how Nat had expected to spend her evening.

She had been on training duty for a while, and she had thought that she would finish up with the new recruits and swing by for dinner with Masha. They hadn’t been out for a while, and Nat had made plans to get Wendy’s and eat it by the river. That was not what happened.

As soon as she had dismissed the rookies, Clint had shown up carrying their mission gear and brown paper bags, presumably with dinner in. He had ignored her protests and pulled up the mission specs Fury had sent over.

They were headed to Iran, to escort some hotshot engineer all the way to Switzerland. Protection detail, Fury had called it, and it should have been a breeze, if a bit time-consuming.

“Clint, why’s Fury sending us? Hand and Hill are a better protection team. You know we’re better at… clean-up ops.” Clint seemed as in the dark as her, but he flipped to the list of threats they would be facing.

“I know, right? Plus, Fury’s added a new face to our most wanted list. He wanted to send you in alone - it should be easy, right? But it feels like there’s something he’s not telling us.” He tapped on the icon labelled ‘Winter Soldier’, pointing out the discrepancies in the facts to Nat. “He’s a ghost story. I trawled the intelligence community… and jesus. He’s credited with more hits than us put together. No way I’m letting you go on this op alone.”

Nat sighed, but accepted her bag and her dinner, and ducked into the locker rooms to change and call Maria to cancel her evening plans. Once she was suited up, she returned to Clint’s side and looped her arm through his, walking together to the Quinjet.

Clint was the best person, ever - he had bought coffee for her, and he had put it in her very expensive thermos that actually kept it warm - which meant that by the time they landed in Iran, even though it was technically morning and she hadn’t had any sleep, she wasn’t completely exhausted. They both could go days without sleep and still function, but they preferred keeping up with that buzz of caffeine in their blood.

The nuclear engineer was called Sam, and she was a bundle of nerves. Nat didn’t think she’d ever seen someone so scared to see SHIELD agents - annoyed, angry, confused, sure - but Sam was scared of Clint. Clint was basically a puppy! Nuclear engineers weren’t usually in the company of assassins, but still.

Sam reminded Nat of Jemma Simmons, and she found herself wondering how the little scientist was doing. Bobbi was still avidly into science, and still friendly with Weaver, so she got all the Academy gossip while Nat was stuck with listening to Masha complain about agents playing video games while on-duty. Not that Nat wanted to hear about quantum computing or biochemical weapons either, but it was a little more interesting than “he won’t stop playing Galaga!”.

They wanted to set off as soon as possible, but Clint needed time to appropriate a decent off-roader and buy as many tanks of gas as he could. Nat could see that Sam was practically shaking at being left alone with her, which was ridiculous, so Nat took her out for coffee.

Luckily, there was a coffee shop near the airfield. Nat sat down with her espresso and her chocolate, and tried not to laugh at Sam’s tentative purchase of juice and a brownie.

“Clint guzzles coffee like it’s his lifeblood,” she mentioned, offhand, and took pride in the laugh Sam tried to muffle. “Personally, I prefer soda, but when I’ve been awake for days, or I’m in mission mode and need something to keep me going… coffee is absolutely as necessary as any of my kit.”

Sam sipped at her juice, looking thoughtful. “Some of my colleagues are like that,” she offered, “but I’ve always preferred tea.” She giggled at Nat’s dramatic gasp, and Nat celebrated internally.

“Honestly, if we’re going to be road-tripping across half the Middle East and… pretty much all of Europe, we’re going to need to stop for coffee quite a bit.”

By the time they’d finished up in the coffee shop and wandered around the city a bit, Nat had been educated in Iran’s rich history, and Sam was a lot more comfortable. She lit up when she had the chance to explain something to Nat, so she took care to ask about all the different things they saw. The relaxed mood was broken slightly when Nat’s phone buzzed, and she opened it to see a text from Clint.

When she looked up, a car pulled to a stop in front of her, and Clint’s grinning face peered out from the window.

“It has A/C and a heater! So we’ll be fine in Switzerland and fine here.” He looked so pleased with himself, Nat deigned to grant him the coffee she’d bought for him.

They piled into the car - Nat got shotgun because they wanted to keep Sam behind the slightly more tinted windows, and Clint was a far better driver than her. Clint was… usually a better driver than her. When he only had one hand on the wheel and kept turning his gaze towards his coffee instead of the road, though, he tended to start drifting into the wrong lane, or change his speed so he ended up annoying the driver behind them or nearly bumping the car in front.

Sam didn’t seem to notice, but Nat just got more and more frustrated, until she had to confiscate his coffee.

They drove for hours - Nat gave the coffee back when Clint started drooping, but when the caffeine wore off, they pulled over to buy more coffee for themselves, and a blanket, pillow and some juice for Sam. Nat and Clint switched so Nat was driving, but Clint stayed up to keep watch while they let Sam sleep.

The roads through Iran were barely any different from the roads through Turkey or Georgia. By the time they reached the Russian border, Nat was the only one awake, which meant she couldn’t get chewed out by Clint for using her old Red Room papers instead of her SHIELD issue passport. Clint and Sam had woken up and gone back to sleep plenty of times, but Nat just kept restocking on coffee.

She pulled over into the first gas station she reached, and shook Clint awake, his blond hair tousled almost comically. Her own hair was still in the tight plait she’d had it in for training, but the exhaustion of being awake for days was starting to show on her face.

“Hm… five more minutes, Phil.” He blinked his eyes open blearily, and seemed genuinely surprised to see Nat. “Where are we?”

She tucked a stray strand of red hair behind her ear, and offered Clint a weary smile.

“Just arrived in Russia. Think you can take over? I’ll be up once we get to Ukraine, I just-” she yawned, and blinked as if surprised. “I’m tired.”

They switched places again, Sam not even stirring, and Nat burrowed down into the passenger seat, trying to find a comfortable position for a nap.

When she woke, the watery sun was streaming into the car. Clint clearly hadn’t roused her when they got to the border, and when she looked out of the window she could see the sea.

“Sam woke up around Mariupol, and we went out to get food, drink, more supplies.” Nat looked down to find that one of them had covered her with a blanket while she slept. “The kid likes you.”

Nat laughed, her voice scratchy.

“I’m taken. Where are we now? Where’s… where’s Sam?” Her heart jumped into her throat as she realised their charge wasn’t in the backseat. Clint placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“We’re stopped again in a coastal town - Stepanivka Persha, from what I could tell. Sam wanted to stretch her legs and we were low on gas, so I sent her out to get some. She’ll be fine.”

Nat carefully extricated herself from the blanket, feeling as if she was coming out of a haze. She chucked the blanket onto the back seat, where it joined the one Sam had been under, and took the coffee Clint was offering with a grateful smile. Her hair was mussed and there were far more strands coming out of the plait than there had been before, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Clint also had some sweet, sticky baklava left over from when she made a pit-stop in Turkey, which she damn near drooled over.

Once she had finished waking up, she switched over with Clint and they waited for Sam to come back. She wasn’t long; she came trotting back with tanks of gas and a bright smile on her face.

Nat took the coastal road across Ukraine, the Black Sea a vast stretch of beauty on her left, Clint chatting a mile a minute on her right. They managed to drive for nearly seven hours before Clint called for a stop so they could eat.

Sam had been listening to music while they drove along the coast, but she put her headphones away as they pulled into a car park in Odessa.

“What are we going to eat?” She seemed genuinely interested, and Nat didn’t have the heart to tell her that Clint was probably taking them to a Wendy’s.

Luckily, Clint didn’t have the heart to spoil her experience in Ukraine by dragging her along to get a bacon burger. They wound up in a small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant, which offered ‘genuine Ukrainian cuisine’. Nat doubted that - it seemed like its main clientele were tourists - but they served kievs, and there were burgers on the kids menu. Sam followed Nat in ordering chicken kiev, and Clint proved that he was still not over his circus heritage by ordering three hamburgers.

“We’re not even in Hamburg,” Nat pointed out, to which Clint replied with “We’re not in Kiev either.”

The meal was tasty, the servers were kind, and it was a chance to just… sit. Savour a meal. They didn’t have long before they needed to be on the road again, but it gave Sam a chance to breathe, and with one proper meal, Nat and Clint could go for a while without food.

It was after they’d paid, Clint had flirted with the waiter and they were nearly at the car when Nat chanced a glance behind her shoulder.

The man from the wanted list was standing like a ghost on the other side of the road.

Clint and Sam piled into the car, but her limbs were frozen with fear. It took a friendly call from Clint for her to snap out of it, and she jumped in the passenger seat and slammed the door.

“Drive.”

They pulled out of the car park and had made it a few metres down the coast road before Nat heard shots ring out. The car swerved, and Clint’s alarmed expression indicated that it wasn’t because he was trying a new evasion tactic. They had lost control over the car, and it was with a frenzied horror that Nat watched them go straight over the edge.

Sam was screaming in the back, but Clint was already acting as they hit the water. He grabbed Sam with one hand, barked an order at Nat, and pulled open the driver-side door in one fluid movement. Nat slung the bag she had had at her feet over her shoulder and followed Clint in tugging Sam with them up to the surface.

She thrust her head up through the water and took a gasping breath, swinging around wildly to see the Soldier. He was still standing on the side of the road, looking impassive as ever, and Natalia had to quell the rising memories of the Red Room.

She swam to the roadside, and pulled herself up as best she could. Clint followed with Sam, and they hunkered down behind the railings, waiting to catch their breath. Natalia unzipped the bag, thanking the SHIELD techs to high heaven for making it waterproof, and handed him the sat phone and his bow. She unholstered her Makarov from her jacket and grabbed the Beretta from the bag, pressing it into Sam’s hands.

“Clint, get to shelter, try and phone HQ. Sam, I’m going to cover you, but you need to keep your head, alright?” Once she received affirmation, she straightened and all three of them vaulted the railings. Clint headed for the restaurant while she kept Sam pressed to her back, her gun trained on the Soldier.

He was a ghost story, but he was standing across the road from them. Nat couldn’t bring herself to look away from him. Clint looked in the same direction and the man broke eye contact with Nat for a moment to stare at Clint. She yelled at Clint, and he ducked into the doorway of the restaurant they’d been relaxing in minutes before.

Sam was panicking, but Nat had to ignore her, directing her concentration fully on the man. She could barely breathe as memories of training in the Red Room flooded in, and she let out gasp of surprise as a slug ripped through her and into Sam.

Natasha staggered slightly, a hand pressed tightly to her stomach, watching red stain her clothes and her hand as if it were happening to someone else.

There was a thud behind her and she managed to turn around to see Sam lying prone on the ground, her face frozen in an expression of surprise.

Distantly, she could hear Clint’s shouts, and running feet, and as she fell back she fell into his arms. She fought the urge to close her eyes, and with a great deal of effort, turned her head to face him.

“I knew him.”

Clint’s face was an interesting blend of horrified, confused, and pained. Nat reached up with a trembling hand and held the side of his face, blinking earnestly at him. “He’s called Yasha.”

It was nearing nightfall, and she’d been on the road for days, so Natalia didn’t feel bad about sinking further into Clint’s arms and letting her eyes flutter shut. As if through a wall, she could hear Clint’s protests, but her hands fell to her sides and she drifted away.

--

Sam was dead, there was no hope for her, but Clint couldn’t care less about his mission. He dropped to his knees, cradling Nat, and scrabbled in the bag she’d left on the ground for the med kit. The enhancements the Red Room had given her included a healing factor, and he was lucky it was a through-and-through, but she had lost so much blood already.

He had phoned HQ, but he picked up the phone again to yell out that he needed a medevac yesterday, that their single best agent was down and bleeding out, and that they needed to keep Maria away from the whole situation.

Needles and thread were beyond him - Carson’s first liontamer had taught him to be an excellent seamstress, but he didn’t think he could handle sewing into his sister’s skin. She seemed so frail in his arms, and her blood was pooling in his lap.

He tore his eyes away from the bloody mess on her stomach for a moment to compose himself and try not to throw up. There were bandages in the medkit, and he bound her stomach tightly, packing extra bandages on either side of the wound to try and stem the bleeding.

Nat’s shirt was soaked in blood, and her right hand was stained red from where she’d been holding. Clint’s trousers were covered in blood that still hadn’t dried, and there was blood on his hands - he tried to wipe them on his shirt but there was still blood everywhere. Blood was seeping through the bandages, so fast - too fast - and as he turned Nat onto her bed to see the exit wound, he noticed that her back was spattered in Sam’s blood.

Phil’s voice crackled in over the sat phone, and Clint could have cried with relief.

“Medical team is still twenty minutes out, but Fury is pushing to get it there faster. Keep trying to stem the bleeding. Did you see who it was?”

Clint pressed his hand onto the wound, remembering that applying pressure was a good thing. He figured that he couldn’t elevate her, not really, considering the wound was pretty close to her heart, but he did try and lay her down as flat as possible. The people from the restaurant had been kind enough to stay inside when Clint barricaded the door, and they were on the outskirts of Odessa, so no one was really watching. He remembered to reply to Coulson, trying to think rationally, trying to figure out the best thing to do for Nat.

“It was the new guy on the wanted list. Winter Soldier. Nat said- Nat said she knew him, that he was called Yasha. Check him against any Soviet records we have, alright?” There was no reply from Coulson. “Alright?”

“Copy, Barton.” It was Maria’s voice, tight and strained, and Clint winced. She would not be happy.

“You two just focus on getting home.”