Hey everyone! I wrote this chapter a while ago and after some revisions, I think it's ready to go! Endgame was such a depressing end for all us Clintasha diehards, so I figured we could use a little bit of imagination to forget it all. Heads up before you read: It's early 2005. I messed with Clint's age a bit but that's no big deal. Other than that, I'll update you for anything else you need to know in my timeline before future chapters. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
"What the hell is this Barton? I sent you to kill her, not recruit her!"
"I'm sorry sir. I couldn't kill her."
"I don't care if you think the woman is an angel from up above, she's a goddamn threat!"
The said woman behind the double-sided mirror tilted her head as if she were listening to the two men bicker. Clint wouldn't be surprised if she was.
The director sighed. "Coulson said you could get the job done, Barton. That you would put an arrow between her eyes. Guess he was wrong."
The young agent straightened. "He wasn't wrong, sir. I brought her in because she could be useful," That's a lie. "She has certain skills that could prove to be assets. Put her in a fight and tell me I'm wrong."
Clint didn't bring her in because he thought she would be a good agent. He saw something in her eyes, something that struck him to his core. Fear. Fear of dying, of giving up hope. He brought her in because he wanted to give her the chance to change. If he was wrong, Clint wouldn't hesitate to kill her. But he had a feeling that he wasn't wrong.
Fury sighed and turned to look back through the window. "You have 5 minutes."
"Thank you, sir. You won't be disappointed." Barton headed toward the door and left the room.
Natalia waited. She still didn't understand why she was here in the first place. If that man was a good agent, he would've taken the first shot available. Why save the life of a criminal? A section of the wall opened, and her captor shuffled into the small room. He sat across from her and started to speak.
"My name is Agent Barton," He squinted his eyes. "Do you understand English?"
Natalia scoffed, "You offend me, Agent."
Barton shifted uncomfortably. "So, yes. Well then, this will be a lot easier. My Russian isn't very good," He coughed. "Do you know where you are?"
"SHIELD," she replied with ease. "A base somewhere in the United States, I believe."
The young agent nodded carefully. "So, you're the infamous Black Widow."
"Do you start every interrogation with stating the obvious?" the assassin scoffed.
Behind said mirror, Director Fury rubbed his temples. Pull it together, Barton.
He tried again, "Ms. Romanova, I think we can work out a deal for you to come work for us."
"Please," she spat out, " you and I both know how this ends. So you don't kill me. It won't stop me from tearing you apart."
Clint took a sharp breath and sat up straight, "Fine. You don't want to play nice? I'll stop too."
She leaned forward, awaiting his questions.
"What were you doing in Minsk, Romanova?"
"Same as you, Barton. I was sent to kill someone. Only I completed my mission."
He slammed his palm down on the metal table; she didn't even flinch. "Who are you working for? Who do you answer to?"
Natalia's green eyes suddenly became much colder than before. "I don't answer to anybody. If they have a job for me, I'll take it. I work for nobody but myself."
The two stared at each other for minutes on end, neither side flinching. He had definitely hit a nerve.
Clint felt a buzz on his wrist. His five minutes were up. Rubbing his face, he finally said, "I wanna help you. I do. SHIELD pulled me out of a bad place. They made me realize that I could protect people, maybe even change their lives. I think they can do the same for you."
Barton slid his chair back and stood. Before opening the door, he looked back at the young women. She had her arms crossed and was lost in a train of thought. He sighed and walked out the door, shutting it closed behind him.
When Clint walked back into the adjoined room, Fury was still watching their Russian captive.
The younger man took a breath before speaking. "I'm sorry, sir. There doesn't seem to be any information can get out of her."
After a few agonizing seconds, the director finally turned his attention away from the window.
"Get her ready. Training starts tomorrow."