The Road Home (Clintasha)

2. Assurance (Natasha)

AVENGERS TOWER-NEW YORK CITY

Natasha Romanoff paced uneasily around the common room. Tonight was Chinese night; as per usual, the rest of the team had near-bankrupted Jade Palace Chinese Buffet and were engaged in relaxed camaraderie, but she couldn't bring herself to unwind like the others.

This was probably paranoia. Completely irrational, and thoroughly ridiculous. She'd been trying to dismiss it all day, but still it would crop up in the most uncalled for of situations, like a tumor. And just like a tumor, it wouldn't stop for anything-not for Tony's repeated tequila offers, not for meditation with Banner, and not for whatever story Thor was passionately retelling at that particular moment.

"Our forces were scattered, and the horde was descending upon us from yonder mountain crest," he proclaimed, propping one foot up in a Columbus pose on the bar. "Myself, Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg were the only warriors among us still in possession of our senses. With one accord, we-ah!" Crash! A bowl shattered against the floor, scattering its contents. "My apologies, comrades, I have spilled rice. I'll clean it later." Thor leapt onto the bar. "With one accord, we charged the enemy with clanging of sword and crash of lighting! Then-" Tony held up the hand that wasn't occupied with alcohol.

"Hold up, Braveheart. Yo, Natasha! Is there like a really interesting laser light on my carpet or something?" He called in her direction. It was another stupid, dime-a-dozen joke (one of the many things Tony Stark had patented), but now everyone was turning to look and the focus of the room had shifted to her.

"No more interesting than that margarita must be, Tony. You two have been hitting it off all evening."

She said this with a smile. And, to her credit, a very convincing one. But the Avengers knew their own.

"Um, Natasha? Seriously, why don't you come eat? These-these egg rolls are gonna be freezing cold soon," implored the meek Dr. Banner, offering a platter of Chinese selections, and suddenly jerking it away from an inquisitive god's hand. "Thor, please! These are Natasha's, right, Natasha? Come on." The Asgardian shrugged.

"Pardon, Doctor. The food of this realm is intriguing." His brow furrowed. "But if the lady wishes to partake, then I crave her forgiveness more. Egg rolls?"

A sigh-laced with perhaps a shadow of amusement. "No, Thor, I'm fine."

While Thor and Banner quibbled over the egg rolls, Captain America eased out of the chaise lounge and to his feet, setting down his sesame chicken.

"-Oh speaking of freezing!" quipped Tony.

"Hysterical. Listen, I'm going up to the target range, if that's fine. Nat, care to join?" She noticed the captain's pointed look, nodded, and exited with him.

***

"I've been getting reports from a couple contacts in SHIELD. Nothing extensive or enough to catch the radar, just little reassurances. Then today, they call me again, and tell me everything's gone wrong. The Absolution case looks blown, Clint is compromised, and it's too early to tell, but...he may be dead." Widow's voice seemed to die out toward the end. She fidgeted, and stared at the target, loosing three shots in quick succession All three were dead on. She was avoiding looking Cap in the eyes.

"Okay, okay, I get it. So you're worried about him."

Widow huffed. "Of course not, Clint is perfectly capable of handling himself, to think he can't would be...idiotic."

"Nonono, but that's not the point, is it."

Thunk. About a centimetre off this time.

"Steve, I've tried everything. Went immediately to get a pass from Fury, go to Kansas and just...search for myself, you know. Backup and recon, right?"

Cap grinned. "Well, that explains how the groceries run ended up very much grocery-less. And?"

"Nothing, he waved me off. Honestly. I am arguably one of the best agents he has, and he waved me off like I'm a child."

"It's not your fault, Nat. Fury will only talk when Fury wants to talk."

"No, but you get it, right? Because you and I both know what it's like, you know?" Her hands were shaking. "You wake up one morning and everyone's just...gone, and you don't know who's got your back, and not just an alliance for a little while and you both go your separate ways, but someone who's with you to the end of the line. Well, Clint is that for me. He's always been that for me. And if he dies out there? I can't have that, I can't allow it, but if all of it goes wrong, and I have to, then I can't...it can't..."

The trigger pulled, and the window behind the target burst, leaving an extremely noticeable chasm where the pane used to be.

"Shit," Natasha muttered, shakily holstering her pistol.

"It's okay, Nat. Stark'll have it fixed in no time."reassured Cap. "Just...just take a minute."

When she spoke again, she was breathing heavily, and her voice had dropped down to a fragile whisper. "Steve, our anniversary is this week."

"-Oh. Oh, Lord."

"Yeah." Cap thought for a minute.

"Nat, you know Clint probably even better than I do, so you should know very well that he's a talented agent, and he's crazy. If there's any possible crazy, stupid way to do what's right, I think he'd take it. Especially when his gal is involved, right?" Cap's face softened. "Natasha, I know we deal with...casualties a lot. But I wouldn't worry too much." He extended an arm.

As a rule, the notorious Black Widow was not a hugger. Too unprofessional in a game that had little room for affection. But when the chips were down and rules needed breaking, there were only two men she trusted enough to accept hugs from. She leaned without objection into the arms of the one who was still in-state.

"Mmh....thank you Steve...listen, I'm just really tired."

"Anytime, ma'am. Go get some rest-but...hey, before you do, I've actually got an idea I want to share with you first."