protected || natasha romanoff [DISCONTINUED]

theres no "i" in SHIE- oh.

i duck around a corner when i see clint barton coming. it's been a week and he still hasn't gotten close to killing me. i'm also no closer to killing him, so i guess we're even.

"i know you're there," he says softly.

"so kill me," i say, trying to sound calm. i shift the weight off of my still-injured leg, palms pressing into the wall of the building behind me.

"you already know i'm not going to do that."

"i won't go back," i say, keeping my voice calm.

"director carter will understand," he says.

"no- i can't- i can't go back to russia." i have nothing, and no one. i was always told i had no place in the world, and i guess that was right. maybe i can play my cards right, though. "not without killing you."

"then why run away?"

i've already told him too much. why am i still talking? "i thought if i made it back quickly... my punishment wouldn't be too bad."

"SHIELD won't hurt you," he says, pulling me into a hug.

i'm yanking myself out of his grasp and grabbing the gun off his belt before i even notice.

he lets go. "okay. no hugs. but killing me will just put you into deeper shit with SHIELD, alright?"

"stop treating me like a scared child," i snap, still holding the gun out in front of me.

"how old are you?" he asks, almost like he doesn't want to know.

little does he know i became an adult long before i hit puberty. but he can't be that old either... "it doesn't matter."

"you can either give me the gun back, or kill me and have less... merciful agents on your tail."

i lower the gun like i'm about to go with him, and then push it against his kneecap. he puts his hand over mine, and i dig it in a little deeper.

"natalia, i promise you don't want to do that," he says, reaching slowly down to his boot.

"i wouldn't do that if i were you," i growl.

he stops. "you're just scared. please, i don't want to have to kill you."

"what makes you think you can?" i ask, almost laughing.

"natalia," he says, his voice low.i sigh and lower the gun, pressing my lips together. i can entertain him for now.

i somehow end up following barton to a safe house. he unlocks the door with a single key, which is funny because i'd pegged him as someone who likes keychains. he steps inside confidently and i follow him warily. the agent barely glances around before grabbing a burner phone off the kitchen counter. i stand just inside the doorway and look around. it's a small apartment, but it's nice.

barton finally looks up from whoever he's texting and motions to the cupboards and a small brown couch.

"help yourself. i'm just waiting for director carter."

i hide my shaking hands as i sit down on the very edge of the couch. i could kill him right now, and then, when carter comes-

"i know what you're thinking. we've all seen shit, nat. i was such a hassle a few years back..."

"don't call me nat," i snap.

he grabs something out of a cupboard and sits down next to me. i shift away from him a little and he offers me a granola bar. i accept it reluctantly when my stomach grumbles.

"how old are you?" he asks me again.

i don't answer. i stare straight ahead, my hands folded in my lap.

"i just saved your life. you can at least tell me that."

"you ruined my life."

he smiles a little, like something i said was funny. "it seems like your life was already ruined."

"it's not like i ever knew anything else," i grumble. "how old are you?"

he just reaches to touch my hand, and then pulls away. "the director will be here soon. she's not going to be as nice."

i just rolls my eyes, putting on a more confident face. i settle into the couch cushions and cross my legs. i eat the granola bar as i watch barton put two eggo waffles in the toaster.

eventually peggy carter arrives- she doesn't bring anyone in with her, but i'm not stupid. there's no way she came alone. she pulls up a chair and sits in front of me. i lean a little further back, crossing my arms.

"waffle?" barton asks, grabbing syrup out of the fridge.

"later," she says with a sigh, and he comes to sit next to me on the couch. she opens her mouth, but he shakes his head. they seems to have a silent conversation before clint sighs. "she's valuable. that-"

"then why hasn't anyone come to get her?" she asks, cutting him off. she's more thinking out loud than anything.

"i am not useful anymore. they will train another black widow, and she will come to kill me," i say, curling my lip bitterly.

fortunately, carter doesn't press. "apparently i have a soft spot for trauma. you're lucky, both of you."

barton just laughs.

"don't say anything," she says, "i'm not buying it anymore. you have to earn my trust, and it won't be from good manners."

i just stare at her, a smirk dancing across my face.

"now, i'll let you read your file, in exchange for information," carter says, standing up and walking to the kitchen. "i can get you a visa, but that's it. you'll start as a level one agent and you'll have work your way up the ranks. agent barton will be your supervising officer. lucky for you, agent may has no hard feelings. i'd recommend apologizing, though," she continues, taking a waffle.

i nod. it's just a friendlier version of the KGB. i can work with that. i could work for carter. it's not like it matters what i want, though. it never has. and my leg is still injured. "yes, ma'am."

barton sighs. "peggy, you know that's a-"

she raises her eyebrows at him. "you know, she's a lot politer than you were."

"don't rub it in," he grumbles, "you're the one who keeps adopting misfits."

she shakes her head. "i know. it's time to go."

"come on, nat," barton says, grabbing my hand.

"stop calling me that," i growl, pulling away.

"he ranks higher than you do," carter calls as she opens the door, and i just know she's smirking.