The New York Assignment

Seventeen - Two Years Later

Natasha ducked under a heavy arm, and gave a few quick jabs to the pressure point below the arm. With a great cry of anger, the street fighter swung at her head. She ducked again, used his arm as leverage, and sprang onto his shoulders. A few moves later, the man was on the mat.

Her handler patted her bruised back. As she jumped off the mat, a flash of blue caught her attention. Blue eyes, twinkling with amusement. The crowd hid the rest of his face, but she'd know those eyes anywhere. Then, they disappeared.

Visibly shaken, she collected her money and left through the alley door. She walked down five dark blocks to her tiny apartment.

She answered to no one now. Since the fall of SHIELD, she'd been on her own. New cover, new life. She was a wanderer. No contacts, no friends, no backup. Just her against the world.

She stayed straight, though. She took down war lords and drug dealers singlehanded. Only killed when she had to. The nightmares had abated. She didn't think about the loneliness.

She was okay.

As long as she didn't think about him. She was ashamed to admit it, but Clint haunted her. True, with SHIELD gone, there was nothing stopping her from seeing him... except herself. The what ifs crowded into her mind. What if he'd moved on? What if he was married now? What if he'd been HYDRA all along? What if he was dead?

She shook her head as the blue eyes darted before her mind's eye. They belonged to someone else. It was a trick of the light, nothing more. One too many blows to the head.

Natasha inserted the key into the lock and pushed the door open. She stopped. Something was wrong, she could feel it. She wasn't alone. She silently opened the drawer in the table beside the door, and pulled out a gun. She walked through the darkness of her apartment with the gun held in front of her.

She sensed someone behind her. She took the gun in one hand and swung back. An iron grip closed around her wrist, and in the thin ray of light coming through the open window, she could see blue eyes.

"Well, someone's antsy." The grip loosened, and she jerked her hand away. He crossed the room and flicked on a light.

She stared at him for a full minute before she found her voice. "Barton. How'd you find me?"

Clint shrugged. "Friends in high places."

She studied him. Same blonde hair, longer than she remembered. Same chiseled jaw. Same nose, slightly crooked from a fight she couldn't remember. Same dazzling blue eyes. But he was different. She couldn't decide what it was, but he was different.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

Clint chuckled. "Nice to see you, too, Natasha," he said sarcastically. He looked around the small living room. "Nice place you got here."

"Why are you here?" she repeated.

Clint stopped. He looked at his old partner. She'd changed. She'd straightened her hair, and there were scars he definitely didn't remember. She reminded him of that woman he'd met so many years ago, in that alley. Lost, without a clue of who she was or where she was going. She was no longer his Natasha. But, then again, he wasn't her Clint anymore, either.

"We need you come in," was his response.

She tossed her gun on the table. "Who's we? SHIELD fell. And by the way, where were you while Steve, Sam and I were saving the world?"

Clint smirked. "I was on an assignment in Iceland. Sorry I missed the fun, but you and Steve seemed to have things covered."

"Who are you working for? Phil?"