Clintasha One-shots

The Ronin

After Coulson, he’d almost walked away from Shield and the Avengers. Natasha made him stay. He stayed for her, because she’d told him that for once, she felt like she was redeeming her ledger. Clint would have done anything for her. He would have gone anywhere for her and fought anyone to save her.
But now, holding her cold body in his arms, he felt nothing. The pure agony was replaced with a blank space. Cold emptiness where once had been love and care for his partner, for his teammates. The only thing stopping him from putting a bullet into his head was the promise they’d made each other in case one of them didn’t make it; carry on, do good for both of them. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t force himself back into his room at the avenger’s tower now that his family was gone. First Coulson, now her.
He didn’t attend the funeral. Not in person at least. Clint sat on a rooftop a hundred yards away with his riffle and watched, watched from afar like he’d done at Coulson’s funeral. He saw them all standing there, shedding tears over their lost teammate. Tony who for once was dead serious and clung to Pepper’s hand like a lifeline, Steve who stood ramrod straight in his uniform, saluting her one last time, Bruce who’s eyes looked lost and empty and even Director Fury who placed a single white rose on her grave before leaving the scene.
As he sat there, watching the freshly dug grave through the scope of his riffle, Clint mimicked the salute he’d always given her after a shot. It was sloppy and more like tipping an imaginary hat, but Natasha loved it. Then, he stood and walked away.
He’d neatly packed all her stuff and most of his into a few boxes, labelling them for Stark to store. A duffle bag and his bowcase slung over his shoulder, Clint took his Ducati for one last stop at the cemetery.
Crouching in front of her tombstone, he took a black throwing knife out of it’s sheath on is back. It had been Tasha’s favourite. Originally, it belonged to him. A remnant from his circus days and one of twelve in total. He gave it to her after spilling his nightmares to her. That had been six years ago today. 
Gently, almost afraid to break it, he placed the weapon in front of the stone. “khorosho spat', moy ognennyy pauk“ (sleep well my firey spider)

A year passed after Clint left for Alaska. Secretly, he hated the cold, but it reminded him too much of Natasha to leave. Nobody, not every Fury knew where he’d went after resining from Shield and the Avengers initiative. The town was small, consisting of no more than six houses and a wood chopping site and so far north that nobody hardly ever went there. The blonde bought the cabin farthest from the town and took a job as a hunter for the wildlife service.  The people let him be. Nobody asked why he just turned up a year ago without a background or social life. Those people understood.

One day, he got caught in a snowstorm while hunting a pack of wolves that moved too close to town. Clint tried, actually tried to die there but God, if there was a God, seemed to hate him. The next morning, he awoke, halfway covered in snow and still breathing. So he gathered his riffle, and marched back through the empty forest. He almost didn’t notice the beeping of his cell. Almost.

It was a secret number. One only Nat knew. Their backup. Their lifeline if something went wrong. And that lifeline was beeping with a message. “omega T-800, 2 days”
He didn’t even hesitate. The emergency bag was always packed by the door, just in case and he was out in the snow again after a few seconds.
Omega, the name of a safehouse, located in Texas. An old warehouse they’d bought two years prior and equipped with basic weaponry and supplies. Basic in their case meaning ammunition for days and food for months. Rationally, he knew there was no way she could still be alive but he had to try. If it turned out to be a trap so be it.
The little Chesna landed on the ground in the middle of the Texan desert, a few miles away from the warehouse at 700. Clint opened the door of the hangar-like structure at 750, carefully walking inside “Nat?”.
There was a soft whimper coming from the far side of the hall and he immediately dove into a sprint, dropping everything he was carrying on the concrete.
There, halfway covered by thin blankets laid Natasha, his Tasha and looked at him with round, green eyes that spoke of disbelief and pain. “You came” she barley whispered before loosing consciousness.
Sinking to his knees next to her, Clint peeled off the army blanket she’d wrapped around her to reveal a deep gash in her thigh. She looked like she’d lost a lot of blood.
Almost immediately, his field medic training kicked in and he ran, once again, for a med pack. Conveniently, they were both universal donors, his blood being compatible to hers. Back at Shield they’d often given the other blood after injuries. Quickly, he plucked her into his blood-circle, allowing his blood to enter her veins. The wound wasn’t deep and the Archer managed to clean it in record time before stitching it up and wrapping her leg in disinfected gauze. He kept the IV running until he felt her pulse getting stronger again. Now, dizzy from the blood loss, Clint set out a small camp with an old mattress and some sleeping bags before pulling her into his arms.
He knew she would be okay. They both had similar injuries and recovered usually in a few hours time. There, sitting in an abandoned warehouse on a ratty mattress it hit him. She was there. Natasha was alive. She would be okay and he could let himself feel again. Then, he thought about her injury. Whoever caused it could still be out there so he kept watch, cradling her lithe frame in his arms and listening to her heartbeat.
Natasha awoke twice. The first time around 10, two hours after he’d found her. She managed to stay awake long enough to nod at his suggestion of calling the Avengers for an extraction. They came in person, all of them; Tony, Cap, Bruce, Rodney, Sam, Pepper and even Fury. The former director of Shield obviously did some digging on his way there and it turned out Natasha had been Tahiti’d by a branch of Shield that was later discovered as Hydra without his knowledge. Apparently Pierce himself made the order to revive her. After the fall of Shield and Hydra alike, she seemed to have escaped her captors.
The second time Natasha woke up was when they were moving her onto a gurney and into one of the two jets. She confirmed what Fury found out and supplied some information about her captors and their location before loosing conscious again.
Clint asked Tony to get them all back to the tower and Natasha in medical with one of the quinjet while he’d take the other to “get the rest of his stuff” as he told Fury. The director didn’t believe one word he said but let him go nonetheless. It proved to be always unwise to try and stop a trained assassin from taking revenge.
Back in the Hangar, the Archer opened a black case marked with “Ronin”. Years ago, he created another, more shady identity for jobs that shouldn’t be tied to him or Shield. Inside was a black tactical suit with yellow accents and a face mask, complete with gloves, boots and glasses. Below, he found the twin Katanas he’d gotten specifically made by shield after his requirements.

The life in the tower almost turned back to normal, Natasha and Clint moved back in their rooms and unpacked the boxes Tony stored for them the whole time. Nobody talked about Natasha’s experiences in the Tahiti Programme just like no one talked about the fact that a certain Hydra lab was found destroyed a week after Clint returned to the tower. All scientists and agents were found dead with strange cut wounds.
The day Clint walked through the door of Avengers Tower for the first time after over a year, clad in tactical armour, the katanas still strapped on his back, he walked into the infirmary and got to one knee next to Natasha’s hospital bed, finally showing her the wedding ring he’d bought two days before she died in his arms.

And maybe, he thought, maybe it was good that God hated him.