1/3 (omg I am so sorry): sort of 6usedtoberussianMay 30 2012, 23:38:44 UTC
There's no sinister plan behind the events that wipe the last eleven years from Natasha's mind. No, when Natasha Romanoff loses herself and everything she's fought so hard to build for herself it's by accidentThe Red Room is long gone, and Ivan Petrovich has been dead and buried for a decade now, but it's a vestige of the programming Black Widow Ops routed through her mind that finally gets to her
( ... )
Her body is different, not quite as firm as it should be, and she's filled out in certain areas. There are less hard edges to her, somehow. She doesn't look bad, just not quite right. She touches her thumb to the round scar on her shoulder, just above her clavicle. The one Hawkeye gave her the second time they met. It's all faded, but at least it's still there. She counts her scars in the mirror, runs her fingers across the new, foreign ones, as if somehow she can glean what caused them through touch alone
( ... )
1/? (ALSO NEVER APOLOGIZE) stillnotlegolasMay 31 2012, 01:43:25 UTC
The thing about being a super hero is that it’s not at all what Clint expects it will be. The Incident, as he likes to call it has been over and done with for nearly four months now and while they’re still rebuilding in downtown Manhattan, the rubble is starting to clear and people are getting on their lives, but the Avengers are now a national, hell, an international phenomena, and Clint has to realize that for the first time in his life, he is not an unknown entity, close to and only trusted by a few. Now, Clint walks down the street for a cup of coffee and people ask for his autograph. Clint, they say, has single handedly brought back the sport of archery. Local YMCA’s are having to build ranges to meet the demand. And people aren’t getting tattoos of him like they are of Cap, or Tony, but he’s certainly not an anonymous operative anymore
( ... )
He runs to Jakarta, shows up on the steps of the Company, and they’re waiting with open arms because they’ve seen the footage and he’s very convincing (he may not be as good as Nat, but he’s not a badlong for someone, to need someone like oxygen. He hadn’t quite realized, until they were apart, how much he’d rebuilt himself around her, and now that she wasn’t there, there seems to be this hole in the foundation of his being that sets everything a bit off and he feels like it might just take a shove in the right direction for it all to come falling down again. But he’s got a gold ring on a chain around his neck half-hidden by his dog tags, and it reminds him and he keeps it together. So he asks, and at first he buys into Phil’s short comments. He knew Nat wouldn’t give him much, because she’s not that kind of girl, and he doesn’t want her to be, but then the stories get more and more strained and he starts to worry. Nothing major, nothing to tip off the men who he knows follow his every move here, but enough to press Coulson more.
( ... )
He yells. He yells until he’s hoarse and then yells more because it’s the only thing he has to do and he hates feeling helpless more than anything in the world, but he’s had almost everything stripped from him and he didn’t know about it for a month and he’d been rendered helpless until, of course, they needed him
( ... )
As long as Natasha can remember, she has lived within certain rigid boundaries, following the rules and regulations of the Program. There's been a sense of control. But, now, she's woken up in a world ten years down the line and all her research tells her the same thing; the Program is no more. Suddenly, she's spinning free in the wind and there's nothing to hold her. The firm hand that has ruled her life is gone and that's more frightening than not knowing what she's done with herself for the past decade. Because knowing herself, she's just been doing what she's always been doing. But this new freedom is intoxicating and terrifying all at the same time
( ... )
That smile fading hits him somewhere near the gut and dammit, he just--he wants so much right now. He wants to hold her. He wants to kiss her. He wants to ask her what the hell she's doing and tell her what a shit show this last mission was and how much he missed her every night and how all he wanted to do was come home and be with her.
But she's looking at him like she did ten years ago, and now that he said her name, with a bit of suspicion. The warmth and, dare he say it, love that'd been lingering in her gaze since Wales, and the deep steady affection born of years of being the only one the other had that had existed before even that, was gone. And while she had that spark--that flare and brightness that had drawn him to her in the beginning, it was obvious that something was missing
( ... )
Thanks for thinking so very highly of her. It doesn't take a genius to check the date on newspapers or notice how much the world has changed. Granted, it hasn't changed much, but everything is subtly different. Cars, cellphones, clothes, hairstyles... Everything.
Just over ten years. The words hit Natasha like a bucket of ice cold water and she honest to god flinches. The faded remains of her smile are wiped clean off, and her heart drops sharply. Sudden fear --worse than him just knowing her name when she can't remember giving it to him -- clenches at her gut and her fingers curl tightly around the railing of the balcony. She hasn't told a living soul that she can't remember the past ten years. But somehow, he seems to know
( ... )
The expression on his face when she accuses him of having done this to her must be comical to anyone watching. Anyone who sees him right now, must laugh, a little, at the way he looks both like he's been been poleaxed and like a fish out of water. That she thinks he--
But he doesn't even have time to finish the thought, because then she's vaulting over the side of the balcony and he's letting out a shout, a desperate "Nat!" that echoes empty in the alley, bouncing back and forth between buildings. He can't lose her. Not like this, not convinced that he's fucked over somehow, or that SHIELD's been playing games with her mind. He doesn't think, just follows, like he's always followed her, like he would follow her, to the ends of the earth and beyond, right into the mouth of hell if he had to. His descent is even less graceful than hers, mostly consisting of him grabbing that same balcony and grunting as he feels something twinge in his shoulders, and then letting himself drop the rest of the way. He should have gone for the dumpster
( ... )
Clumsily, Natasha wraps her arms around her shaking legs and rests her sweat-beaded brow against her knees. Thinking through the meeting with Hawkeye, running the conversation over in her head, it strikes her that he might not have said what she thought he did. A bit more than ten years isn't only the time she's lost, it's also how long it's been since they first met. So, maybe she's mistaken, maybe her own paranoia twisted his words in her head to make them sound more sinister than they truly are.
He knows her name, and that put her on edge from the first moment. But, they've known each other for ten years, and apparently, they've kept in touch. He said he was there to see her. That he wants to talk. Maybe it was just a social call. (God, he knows her name.) But why is his handler with him if he's just here to see her? It makes no sense
( ... )
He limps back to his hotel and sits quietly while Phil manages to tape up his ankle, pronouncing it sprained, not broken and gives him the expected talking to about jumping off a balcony. The heat isn’t there though, because they both know he didn’t have another choice. It was as true now as it had been ten years ago, except, probably even more so. Clint would follow Natasha where she led, and they could all hope that she didn’t take him down a path they couldn’t retrieve either of them from
( ... )
But then she’s just reaching out and tossing him a dart that he catches more on reflex than anything else, tilting his head, curious, as she speaks.
And then she gives him the rules of engagement and he doesn’t hesitate. Maybe it’s a stupid move, and maybe he’ll end up dead because of it, but he doesn’t care. Nat leads, he follows. And he’s going to chase her down this road she’s on until he catches her and brings her back and if it takes trusting her enough not to kill him? Well, he can manage that. He’s trusted her with more.
He turns his hand over so she can see it and drags a line with the dart, digging deep into the skin so that blood wells up over the tip and it’s more than a little obvious he’s as committed to this as he can be.
"I still beat you," Natasha retorts, as always, and through all her worry, there's a smile tugging at her lips. "That's a technicality, at best. I mean, you can't claim that my intel was too good, so it doesn't count. That's just stupid."
Though she might look relaxed and completely at ease to someone who doesn't know her, there's a deep tension thrumming through her, tightening every single one of her muscles. Her shoulders are so tense, it feels as if they might snap. Like someone has been winding her up to her breaking point. When he draws a bloody line with the dart across the back of his hand -- going above and beyond what she asked for -- she simply stares at him for a moment. Like maybe he's mad.
The trust he just showed in her, without a moment of hesitation, it's more than she could do for him or anyone. The relief is a physical thing, tension bleeding out of her aching muscles and lump forming in her throat. Her shoulders don't sag, but her whole posture eases. "Y-yeah, that should-- that should do it
( ... )
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But she's looking at him like she did ten years ago, and now that he said her name, with a bit of suspicion. The warmth and, dare he say it, love that'd been lingering in her gaze since Wales, and the deep steady affection born of years of being the only one the other had that had existed before even that, was gone. And while she had that spark--that flare and brightness that had drawn him to her in the beginning, it was obvious that something was missing ( ... )
Reply
Just over ten years. The words hit Natasha like a bucket of ice cold water and she honest to god flinches. The faded remains of her smile are wiped clean off, and her heart drops sharply. Sudden fear --worse than him just knowing her name when she can't remember giving it to him -- clenches at her gut and her fingers curl tightly around the railing of the balcony. She hasn't told a living soul that she can't remember the past ten years. But somehow, he seems to know ( ... )
Reply
But he doesn't even have time to finish the thought, because then she's vaulting over the side of the balcony and he's letting out a shout, a desperate "Nat!" that echoes empty in the alley, bouncing back and forth between buildings. He can't lose her. Not like this, not convinced that he's fucked over somehow, or that SHIELD's been playing games with her mind. He doesn't think, just follows, like he's always followed her, like he would follow her, to the ends of the earth and beyond, right into the mouth of hell if he had to. His descent is even less graceful than hers, mostly consisting of him grabbing that same balcony and grunting as he feels something twinge in his shoulders, and then letting himself drop the rest of the way. He should have gone for the dumpster ( ... )
Reply
Reply
He knows her name, and that put her on edge from the first moment. But, they've known each other for ten years, and apparently, they've kept in touch. He said he was there to see her. That he wants to talk. Maybe it was just a social call. (God, he knows her name.) But why is his handler with him if he's just here to see her? It makes no sense ( ... )
Reply
Reply
And then she gives him the rules of engagement and he doesn’t hesitate. Maybe it’s a stupid move, and maybe he’ll end up dead because of it, but he doesn’t care. Nat leads, he follows. And he’s going to chase her down this road she’s on until he catches her and brings her back and if it takes trusting her enough not to kill him? Well, he can manage that. He’s trusted her with more.
He turns his hand over so she can see it and drags a line with the dart, digging deep into the skin so that blood wells up over the tip and it’s more than a little obvious he’s as committed to this as he can be.
“Good enough?"
Reply
Though she might look relaxed and completely at ease to someone who doesn't know her, there's a deep tension thrumming through her, tightening every single one of her muscles. Her shoulders are so tense, it feels as if they might snap. Like someone has been winding her up to her breaking point. When he draws a bloody line with the dart across the back of his hand -- going above and beyond what she asked for -- she simply stares at him for a moment. Like maybe he's mad.
The trust he just showed in her, without a moment of hesitation, it's more than she could do for him or anyone. The relief is a physical thing, tension bleeding out of her aching muscles and lump forming in her throat. Her shoulders don't sag, but her whole posture eases. "Y-yeah, that should-- that should do it ( ... )
Reply
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