STRIKE Team Delta: 26 missions

Nat lay awake in the dark, tracing circles on her sleeping girlfriend’s hand. Things had been a little rocky between them, and there were still things that felt raw, that hurt to think about - even her old fears and pains hurt more, flared up more often. They both knew that they had hurt each other - said things they regretted, made accusations they couldn’t take back. There had been some painful conversations. But they loved each other, and they were both still willing to put in the effort to make it work.

They all had their own… well. “Coping mechanisms” was probably too generous. Maria was pushing her emotions down, trying to keep muscling her way through, and if that worked for her, Nat couldn’t judge. Clint was barely functioning - he still hadn’t processed the things he’d been made to do under Loki’s control, let alone the death of Phil, who had been a father figure to Clint most of all.

They all had their traumas - Maria and Clint could bond over their shared experiences with fathers, but Nat’s particular brand of trauma was both unusual and unique. All three of them terrified therapists, hated opening up, and had demanding jobs that meant they were exposed to death, torture and grievous bodily harm on a regular basis. They were perhaps the poster children for PTSD, and yet they refused help, and even refused to talk about it.

Nat had had a little over four months to process things, and she liked to think that she had got to a good place - well, a better place. Better than she had been when Clint had taken her in, and better than she had been directly after Phil’s death.

Maria put on a good show, but it took her hours to get to sleep - longer without Nat there - and when she did sleep, it wasn’t particularly restful. She would snap at subordinates more, and keep to herself, alone in her office.

Clint was in pieces. They hadn’t been allowed on any missions since, and he had spent his time getting quietly drunk, avoiding everyone and, one on occasion, spending a week with his cousin Laura on her farm. He spent hours standing under scalding showers, doing nothing. Nat had found him near comatose, shivering under boiling water more times than she ever wanted to.

It was late, and Maria was finally asleep, but Nat was still thinking, her head too busy for her to fall asleep any time soon. She had passed her psych eval the day before, which meant that she was cleared for missions, even if Clint wasn’t. Strike Team Delta was a shelved project, with their handler dead and Clint on forced leave, so Nat would probably be sent out with the other strike teams - or with her relatively new teammates, the Avengers.

It had been a couple of months since the Battle of New York, and she’d spent every Friday meeting with a psychologist and then having team dinner and movie night.

Clint had been conspicuously absent, but Nat was a professional liar and an excellent cover. She had started to like her new team mates, but she knew Clint would have mixed feelings, so she didn’t push.

No one had tried to be their handler, or micromanage them, or even just call them up now and again to see how they were getting on. The lack of someone to bring her sandwiches and text her after a rough day was a private ache, but one Clint, Maria, and even Sharon and Bobbi shared. The Avengers had never had that, and Pepper was the one managing their accounts, public presence and diplomatic appearances. Steve had been drafted into SHIELD by Fury when he’d been taken out of the ice, but Nat hadn’t seen him around - she had heard that Fury was taking a special interest in him, though.

The thought of Captain America was always going to make her think of Phil, and that hurt.

Bruce was quiet, mild mannered, and not great at listening but still kind and a good man. He would be a great friend, but after having to use honeypot methods to get him to join up, Nat had avoided him, feeling guilty and embarrassed.

Thor was gone. He had been unexpected, and she knew that Phil and Clint had worked with him more than she had, and he had seemed… arrogant. Manly. She was a little glad that he was gone; his absence meant she had one less person thrust on her.

Pepper and Tony had been her friends for over a year, and she was so glad to have them. Pepper had liked Phil, Tony had known how much they both liked him, and the couple were a steadfast source of comfort for Nat.

Maria and Clint relied on her, both refusing to open up to anyone else. It had shocked Nat that she would be the one to accept other people’s help, to be the one to open up, with her history, but she knew how badly her destructive habits had hurt Maria, how badly she had been dealing with life in the Red Room - and she didn’t want to be that person again.

She had listened to Bobbi ramble about scientific discovery, and sought out Jemma Simmons again to introduce her to Banner, and her partner Fitz to Tony. She had spent a week with Sharon, listening to her talk about her military history - and her family’s history - and even nicked Fury’s pager to call Carol and set the two of them up on a date. She had popped in to Fury’s office daily, actually, seeking his counsel - he was no match for Phil’s particular brand of paternal comfort, but Fury was softer in private, and letting him act the way Phil had had both hurt and helped.

Talking to other people had really helped Nat. Sure, she startled around some of the other agents, she caught herself thinking that she was alone, caught herself worrying about nobody missing her or being there for her, but expanding her social circle - expanding her support system - had helped her, had given her options for who to burden with her guilt and trauma.

Nat couldn’t stand the idea of loading her feelings onto Maria or Clint, because they already had so much to deal with. She only hoped they didn’t have the same attitude towards her.

Sometime in the middle of her meandering thoughts, she drifted off to sleep.

When she woke, it was to the sun, and the other side of the bed was empty, but still warm.

Maria had probably woken earlier than usual and slipped away to get ready for the day. It wasn’t unusual for her to wake up before Nat, but she usually lingered - seeking a few minutes of relief before having to deal with real life.

Nat’s phone was on, and open to her texts, which was odd. She reached over for it and glanced blearily at the latest text from Pepper.

pepper: first official mission for the avengers!!!!!!!!!!! :D :D don’t think clint’s coming, but get your gear and meet me at the tower!!!!!!!

Ah. That could have been what sent Maria away - Nat leaving, on mission, with the Avengers.

Separation, worry of danger, jealousy of different teammates… and Nat going on a mission without Phil in her ear.

There was nothing Nat could do about it, so she got dressed in her tac suit, loaded with Tony’s new Widow Bites, and holstered her Makarov… and the Beretta Maria had left in their weapons stack. Much as she was loath to take it away from her, she knew Maria wasn’t on active duty - and that gun had saved her life more times than she cared to count.

Nat didn’t bump into anyone she knew on her way to the newly named Avengers Tower, which meant that she didn’t have to explain why she was fully dressed up in tac gear when she wasn’t on an active strike team. She felt a little guilty about leaving without letting anyone know where she was going, so she pulled out her phone and left Clint and Fury texts - and then turned her phone off before she could see the reply.

clint: i’m coming too, natasha.

Pepper was waiting for her in the lobby, two coffee cups in her hands, and grinned at the sight of Nat. She waved her through, past the metal detector rather than through it, and Nat was pleased not to feel anxious or scared at the sight of the device.

Therapy actually worked.

Pepper showed Nat to the fancy, new, private elevators. She had taken the public lifts on Friday team nights, and being stuck in an enclosed space with a twitchy civilian that had seen her on the news and become subsequently terrified of her? Wasn’t the best feeling.

The private lifts didn’t have buttons, but instead had JARVIS installed in them - and were much faster than the commercial options. Nat smiled at the camera she imagined JARVIS watching them through, and thanked the British AI as she stepped out onto the helipad.

“It is my pleasure, Ms Rushman.” Nat smiled ruefully as she walked towards the Avengers gathered, Tony’s little programming error amusing her.

“Natashalie! If it isn’t my second favourite red head.” Tony himself popped open his faceplate to talk to her, and Nat grinned at him.

“C’mon, Pepper’s strawberry blonde. Totally doesn’t count.” She offered a jaunty wave to Steve and Bruce, noting Steve’s new uniform - and Bruce fiddling with a pair of sweatpants she hadn’t seen before, but assumed were the stretchy trousers Tony had threatened to make him.

“Natasha.” Steve’s greeting was respectful, as always, and Nat puched his shoulder playfully.

“You can call me Nat, Steve. It’s not the ‘40s. I won’t mind.” His blush was amusingly prompt, and Nat laughed, feeling freer than she had in a while. “Tony fix up the paintwork on that?”

Steve’s shield was brighter, less banged up than she’d seen it last, and at Tony’s proud affirmation, she smiled softly. Tony was a good friend, and she was so glad that his issues with Steve were being worked out.

Nat still had a secret she hadn’t told Steve - and it was one she wasn’t sure he’d forgive her keeping. After Odessa, she had sat with a sketch artist, and plugged the image of Yasha - of the Winter Soldier - into Google images, sure there was something she was missing.

And there was. Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. It didn’t make any sense that he had lived this long - he had hundreds of hits credited to him, and a rich history with the Red Room Natasha preferred not to dwell on - and she knew she had to keep it a secret from Steve. He was already bordering on depression and feeling massively displaced, there was no need to offer him hope, false or not, that his best friend may still be alive. And besides, the man was a killing machine.

At least she knew she wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.

--

The feed from the cameras was grainy, but Nat could clearly see a man - badly disguised - who was clearly Tony Stark. He was purchasing something at a counter in a jewellery store that looked incredibly upscale. There was no audio, but after Tony shook hands with the cashier, he turned around - and the unmistakable shape of a ring box was caught on camera.

--

Maria stood in the doorway to Fury’s office, scowling.

“Sir, with all due respect-”

“Sit down, Hill.”

She moved forwards and sat down, looking mutinous.

“Hill - you’re level seven, and I know you were informed on the T.A.H.I.T.I project. It…. we had one success.”

A shadowy figure moved out of the darkness, around a corner, and smiled a familiar smile.

--

These cameras were high definition, and Nat could make out every detail of Steve’s dapper suit, his excited smile, his slicked back hair - in a style that was more in fashion in the ‘40s, but suited him well enough.

Not only that, she could also make out every detail of the man he was having dinner with, and later, their chaste kiss.

--

No, she was not the only one keeping secrets. Of course, she knew Steve would tell them about his date when he was ready, and she was glad Tony was replacing the cheap ring he’d bought for Pepper six years ago, but it would have been nice to have been told those things.

Still, she was an expert at keeping secrets - her own and others - so she didn’t dare bring anything up in their conversation as they boarded the Avenjet, that was really just a knockoff Quin - not that she would ever say that to Tony.

“So, where are we headed?” she called to Tony and Steve, a little bitter that they got the front seats. Steve had moved into the Tower, as had Bruce, while her and Clint stayed in the SHIELD barracks. She had been considering moving somewhere else for a while, but after Phil died, she wanted to be near Maria - and even though she had a ready-made place rent free at the Tower, she didn’t want to leave her girlfriend. Regardless of her reasons, it meant that the other three were close, and got all the details of any potential missions far before her.

“Trondheim, Norway!” Tony called back, snapping her out of her musings. “But it’s a diplomatic mission, so no snapping necks.”

Nat frowned, and glanced again at the boys in the front seats.

“I’m in my tac suit. Bruce is ready for a Code Green. You’re literally in your armour! Steve is lugging around a patriotic frisbee! Why are we dressed like this for a diplomatic mission?”

Tony sighed loudly, and Steve muffled a snort. Nat had no qualms whatsoever about dissing his outfit - it came from a comic book, for god’s sake!

“Well, Tash - it is a diplomatic mission, but we still want to put on a show of strength. We’re trying to dissolve a conflict between Finland and Norway that’s using American money - and because it might come to blows, we’ve got me, the philanthropist, you, the charmer, Bruce, the peacekeeper, and Steve, the big strong guy.”

Nat shook her head, unused to how political struggles were usually settled without a honeypot mission or an assassination.

“So it’s not a honeypot mission? Cause Maria doesn’t like me doing those.”

Tony snickered, and Steve glanced back to give Nat an adorable confused look, like a lost puppy.

“What’s a honeypot mission?”

This time it was Bruce who spoke up - obviously still a tiny bit bitter about Kolkata.

“It’s when she goes in and seduces her mark - for information, cooperation, or just to make them easier to kill, I guess.”

Nat hid her flinch, and put out a sharp grin.

“They don’t call me Black Widow for nothing.”

Steve wisely shut up about the matter, and went back to flying the plane. Nat frowned, cocking her head. Steve was flying the plane.

“Uh… Steve, last time you flew a plane you crashed. In the Arctic. And got frozen for seventy years. Did you ever actually get any qualifications? Who let you fly?”

It was Steve’s turn to laugh, and he dropped the controls, spinning his chair around to face Nat.

“JARVIS is flying. We’re on autopilot all the way there. And… uh, no. I never did get qualified.”

Nat raised an unimpressed eyebrow and got up from her seat, pushing Steve out so she could curl up in the pilot’s chair.

“As the only one of us who actually knows how to fly this thing, I am claiming this spot.”

She reviewed the gauges and screens with a practised eye, nodding to herself, and flashed a brief glance out of the window. There was a flash of… something, but when she checked on the radar, there was nothing there. She dismissed it as nothing, a trick of the light, but resolved to keep checking the radar on the journey there.

Nothing had popped up by the time they landed, but Nat was sure something was up. She had seen discrepancies in the sky before them a few times on their way to Scandinavia, and as she guided the plane onto the landing strip, she eyed the sky above them warily until Tony clapped her on the shoulder.

“C’mon, Nat, let’s go chat up some politicians.”

The first meeting went well, and the group checked in to their hotel with a sense of relief. They were due to sit in on the full summit of Scandinavian leaders tomorrow, but there would be no need for them to be in their gear - the main issue had been resolved, and all that was left was to clear up loose ends.

Nat dumped her things in her hotel room, and went around securing it with tricks Clint had taught her - and some from her time as the Red Death, too. Once she was certain no one would get in - and that she would know if they had - she set out on a walk, ostensibly to take in the scenery.

The other three were safely ensconced in their rooms, so Nat returned to the airfield first - only to find her suspicions absolutely correct. Someone had parked a Quin near the airfield, tucked only slightly out of sight behind a few metres of tree cover. Nat pulled out her phone to call Maria and ask what it was doing there, only to find two missed calls from her - and a text from Clint.

Swearing aloud, but in Russian, Nat broke off in a run towards the jet, worried Clint had done something rash. It was cold in Norway - it had snowed the day before they landed, and the trees were tipped with downy white - and Nat knew how the cold affected Clint nowadays.

Loki was a frost giant, a Jotun, and his magic was cold as well. While Clint had been under his control, he hadn’t been allowed to eat, to drink, even to sleep - and the whole time, he was trapped inside his own mind, held fast within Loki’s icy grip. He had been made to break into the helicarrier, made to shoot at the agents he worked with, and made to do it with a smile on his face.

He didn’t like to talk about it much, but Nat knew that he remembered every second of it, and that he hated himself for not breaking free, for not being able to stop Loki, to save Phil. He blamed himself, and while Nat knew it wasn’t his fault, she also knew she would feel the same in his position.

But if Clint had landed in Trondheim, in the snow and biting winds, he would feel that icy chill, and think he was right back there again.

When Nat reached the Quinjet, the door was open, but Clint wasn’t inside. Instead, she found him shivering and glassy-eyed, hugging his knees and deadly silent.

She picked him up, slipped her jacket around him, held him tight until the shivering subsided. She proceeded to rant at him for a good few minutes, clutching him to her with worry.

Clint was silent, but he managed a breathy chuckle at some of Nat’s incensed points, and she considered that a success.

The Avengers had been dying to meet Clint. Nat knew he had some personal hang-ups, some worry that they would see him as no more than what he’d done under Loki’s control, but she was sure they had moved past that - and there was no time like the present for them to finally meet up.

Nat hauled Clint to the hotel, turned the heating up far higher than she was comfortable with, and popped in to the boys’ rooms to tell them that they had a fifth member of the team.

Of course, Clint was still supposed to be on administrative leave, but Nat didn’t have the heart to send him back now. She would make sure he was coping better, drag him to team dinner and movie nights, keep him off missions - but for the moment, she needed to give him some friends.

The other three followed behind her as she cracked open the door to her room, pleased to find that Clint had turned the heating down a little, and ushered the others in.

“Great to see you, man,” Tony started, flashing a grin at Clint. “You been avoiding us? We’ve got your place at the Tower lined up for whenever, and Tash insists on letting you choose the next film for movie night.”

Clint smiled, a real smile, and Nat inwardly punched the air in success.

“I heard you grew up in a circus? I loved the circus when I was a kid, but they have all sorts of safety restrictions nowadays. We used to be able to pet the tigers, but that was the ‘40s. I guess it’s not something most people miss.”

“How about you, big guy? You ever seen the circus?” Tony turned to Bruce, curious.

“No, but I always kinda wanted to. I went to a reenactment of a gladiator fight once, that was cool.” He paused to think. “Hey, d’you think they have circuses on Asgard? I wonder if Thor’s ever been.”

Nat moved backwards to hop onto her bed next to Clint, and offered him a warm smile and a friendly nudge.

“They’re not so bad, huh?”