Glasshouse

Natasha

Natasha Romanoff sometimes marveled at how she had ended up the way she had. Even as a child, she had been predestined to be a spy, an assassin... and nothing more than another file about a short-lived asset. Instead she was now hurrying up the two floors towards Harry Stark's office. Next to her, Clint was chewing on the inside of his right cheek. Worried and restless. They had arrived via portkey from his farm in the Scottish Highlands and Natasha was so very grateful she had been visiting, when the news came.

The Bartons had spend some time in the Stark's vacation home on the shores of Loch Ness after the whole debacle with the Accords and after everything had settled down, they had decided to stay in the UK. For security reasons.

Technically, Clint hadn't been caught doing anything illegal, but he didn't trust the US government and in the UK, at least, he had the huge shadow of Harry Stark to protect them.

Natasha would never, ever have guessed this would happen. When Harry had taken over SI, Natasha had been sent by Fury to get closer to the Stark Brothers. To assess them and see, if Tony was a suitable addition to the Avengers and if Harry would interfere with their plans or not. In all honesty, Harry hadn't been considered that much of a factor. He was young. He was a family father, his origins were unknown, his upbringing shrouded in mystery and he obviously wasn't a genius like his father or brother. That was all they had known. So Natasha had become Natalie and worked at SI's legal department for a couple of months, before SHIELD had pulled some strings to have Dylan, Harry's assistant, suddenly win some contest and have him move to LA.

Naturally, Natalie had moved into the vacancy, expecting to get the job. Instead Harry had gone and hired the German history student that had interviewed him once.

SHIELD had gone through her history with a tooth comb, but there was no reason whatsoever to hire her. The opposite even.

So Natalie had stayed as close to the brothers as possible. Until one evening Harry had called her to his office, looked her straight in the eyes and asked: "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"What? Natalie Rushman, I..."

"Yes, yes, I know all that. Don't bullshit me. I know what a fake history looks like."

Natasha praised herself on being good at reading people. Very good. She had put Harry Stark down as a nice, honest and respectable guy, who did the best he could, was very conscious of his responsibilities and liked to be liked. That evening, though, she had seen something completely different and it had chilled her to the bones.

She still remembered the chills running down Natalie's arms. The honest fear. All that training. All that experience. And this man had looked at her with such cold anger and contempt, she had been sure she'd kill her.

How could she have missed it?

The rage underneath? The knowledge and... power?

She had had to tell him the truth that night. About SHIELD, the organisation his father had helped built. He had nodded once and called security to escort her out of the building. That was it. Until that cold and hard man had appeared in the middle of Manhattan, wreaking havoc amongst the alien army and beating a literal god into a pulp.

And now, somehow, they had all gotten so close that Natasha and Clint would hurry half across the country to find out what the hell had happened to Harry's youngest.

The made it through the door and stopped. The reception was full of people, most of them redheads.

Steve, ever observant was the first to notice and waved them over, greeting them with a tight smile.

"Are you sure he didn't say anything?", Natasha heard Ron Weasley ask in a soft, caring voice.

Only then did Natasha notice the woman he was kneeling in front of: Johanna Stark, looking blotchy and wild. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes slightly vacant. She was wearing a big hoodie, almost vanishing insight the fabric, her hands clasping her forearms out of sight.