A Different Call

12. Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D.

Sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a hallway with two guards on either side, Natalia felt like a naughty child awaiting punishment outside Madame B's office. With her cuffed hands in her lap, the former Russian spy leaned her head back until it bumped against the wall and sighed. The interrogation had been the easy part. Her interrogator was by no means friendly, but Natalia had nothing to hide, no torture to outlast, and no secrets to protect. 

The interrogation had been expected. At this moment, nothing was certain. 

Raising her head so as to not strain her neck, Natalia's heart lurched at the sight of an approaching familiar face. Barton was alone–weaponless, but otherwise unguarded and comfortable in his uniform. In the recent events, she had forgotten she was still in her torn and bloody Black Widow suit. 

The guards didn't acknowledge Barton, but he didn't push his luck by attempting to get too close. Instead, he leaned casually against the dark wall opposite of her, folding his bandage-littered arms across his chest and flashing that infuriating grin of his, enhanced in ridiculousness by the bandaids taping the cuts on his face together. She doubted she looked much better. 

  "I was told you were welcomed by Deputy Director Hill herself," he remarked. "You should feel flattered."

  "The honor's all mine," returned Natalia sarcastically. "I see you haven't been arrested or discharged."

  The archer shrugged. "They were sorely tempted. I guess I'm still of use." 

She frowned at his choice of words. Having only met him the day before, she had yet to hone in on his personality and sense of humor. Whether a self-deprecating joke or hard truth, it was poorly timed if he wanted to convince her S.H.I.E.L.D. was the good guy.

Before she could comment on it, the door beside the guard on her left opened. The man who had led the welcoming committee on the landing pad stepped through. His pale blue eyes flicked between her and Barton. The latter pushed his shoulder off the wall, standing straight and alert. The smirk was replaced by soberness. 

  "The Director will see you now," he informed them both. Then he nodded to the guards. "Wait out here."

Natalia rose to her feet and Barton gestured for her to go first. 

Inside was a large office well lit by the floor to ceiling window overlooking New York City. It was simply and orderly furnished. Standing beside the wooden desk was the woman now identified as Deputy Director Hill, her arms crossed and watching them both. Leaning back in the desk chair was a man with one piercing eye and a black eyepatch. His head was void of any hair except for a short, scraggly goatee. His black coat reached down to the floor and his dark, battle-worn hands rested folded on his lap. His brown eye followed her every move and seemed to gaze down to her soul as if he knew every dirty secret, every weakness, and every strength. 

The blond man had reentered the room with them. He closed the door behind him and trapped her in a room with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s higher ups and one man she knew could kill her. Considering the small detail of leaving her armed escort outside, she doubted Clint Barton was the only person in the room skilled enough and willing enough to kill her. 

Despite the overwhelming odds, she straightened her posture and held her head high as she let the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. evaluate her with his one good eye.

  "Ms. Romanoff," the blond man began, "my name is Agent Phil Coulson. The woman who... interviewed you is Deputy Director Maria Hill." From his position on the other side of the Director's desk, he gestured to the woman across from him. Then he turned his hand toward the man in the seat. "This is Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D."