(no subject)
trajectories
rating: g
characters: Natasha Romanoff/Clint Barton, Sam Carter/Jack O'Neill
warnings: none
summary: Natasha Romanoff has worn many names and faces in her life, and she has met Sam Carter while wearing three of them.
author's note: For crazy4orcas, who asked for Clint/Natasha and Sam/Jack.
Natasha first meets her when she is Natalia, a bodyguard with a bullet hole in her side and an engineer clinging to life on the hospital bed that she guards relentlessly. It is only the glimpse of the odd symbol on the newcomer’s shoulder that keeps Natalia from pulling the trigger when the curtain slides aside, her gun tucked against her torso and cool against rewrapped bandages.
“Zelenka,” the distressed American breathes, braided hair falling over her shoulder as she leans across the gurney railing. “Is he going to make it?”
I am not a doctor, Natalia wants to tell her disdainfully, pain curling her lips with scorn, but she says nothing. She is a bodyguard here, hired by untraceable accounts to protect this strange Czech scientist in his travels, and the lies smell stronger every moment she watches the woman who holds herself like a soldier and bears the symbol her client wore before they stripped him of his bloodstained clothing.
“What happened?” The woman asks, the echo of command in her voice, and Natalia speaks.
-
They cross paths in Denver after Natalie pushes the pieces of Stark’s life into a vaguely recognizable shape and packs her bags to leave again. Natalie’s memory for faces supplies a name for the woman scanning a crowded airport: Carter, American military, previous contact. Avoid. She slips behind a tourist couple dressed for a warmer climate and ducks her head, slowing to match their sandaled strides. The tickets in her tote are for Nash Roman, a small-time blogger investigating paranormal activities outside of Atlanta, and the other woman only knows her as ‘Natalia’. There are no ties that could lead the soldier to SHIELD; still, better safe than sorry.
And yet Carter catches sight of her, tracking her through the wave of arrivals with a furrow in her brow and a downward pull on her lips. Their eyes meet for a moment: artfully outlined green, weary but expectant blue.
They both are older, now, and whether they are wiser is debatable. Still, Natalie notes the precise moment when Carter decides to let it be, to leave the woman she knows as a Russian bodyguard in high heels and a formfitting mini skirt to her own ways. It is enough that they have their own battles to fight; they cannot take on those of others.
Carter finds the person she is looking for, a gray-haired man with worn hands tucked into khakis and slouched shoulders under a leather jacket, and Natalie lingers by a book stand to watch them embrace with smiles that wipe away the other woman's exhaustion.
-
In the wake of the chaos, in the scattered rubble that is left of Washington, Natasha opens the door of her Roanoke safe house to find Brigadier General Samantha Carter (Air Force) standing on the stoop with a faint smile.
“Natasha Romanoff?” The soldier half asks, half states, while the tension in Natasha’s shoulders brings Clint from his seat on the couch to stand by her side. “General Carter. I believe we’ve met before.”
She stares at the other woman, noting automatically the streaks of gray, the further lines around her eyes. Carter still carries herself as though she has lived through a hundred firefights and is ready for more even in high heels and a cleanly pressed uniform, and Natasha wonders where she has gone to war. The same battle-readiness flows through her own veins, carried with the adrenaline and the dust of the organization she had called home.
“I’d like to talk to you about helping us to figure out if HYDRA is in the Stargate program. May I come in?”
Natasha studies her, remembering a hospital in Odessa and the warmth that runs underneath the poise Carter wears like her military stars. She reaches out slowly, accepts the handshake that she is offered; finds the other woman’s grip is firm and warm.
“Please,” Natasha Romanoff tells Samantha Carter, and takes the half-step back to let her in.
rating: g
characters: Natasha Romanoff/Clint Barton, Sam Carter/Jack O'Neill
warnings: none
summary: Natasha Romanoff has worn many names and faces in her life, and she has met Sam Carter while wearing three of them.
author's note: For crazy4orcas, who asked for Clint/Natasha and Sam/Jack.
Natasha first meets her when she is Natalia, a bodyguard with a bullet hole in her side and an engineer clinging to life on the hospital bed that she guards relentlessly. It is only the glimpse of the odd symbol on the newcomer’s shoulder that keeps Natalia from pulling the trigger when the curtain slides aside, her gun tucked against her torso and cool against rewrapped bandages.
“Zelenka,” the distressed American breathes, braided hair falling over her shoulder as she leans across the gurney railing. “Is he going to make it?”
I am not a doctor, Natalia wants to tell her disdainfully, pain curling her lips with scorn, but she says nothing. She is a bodyguard here, hired by untraceable accounts to protect this strange Czech scientist in his travels, and the lies smell stronger every moment she watches the woman who holds herself like a soldier and bears the symbol her client wore before they stripped him of his bloodstained clothing.
“What happened?” The woman asks, the echo of command in her voice, and Natalia speaks.
-
They cross paths in Denver after Natalie pushes the pieces of Stark’s life into a vaguely recognizable shape and packs her bags to leave again. Natalie’s memory for faces supplies a name for the woman scanning a crowded airport: Carter, American military, previous contact. Avoid. She slips behind a tourist couple dressed for a warmer climate and ducks her head, slowing to match their sandaled strides. The tickets in her tote are for Nash Roman, a small-time blogger investigating paranormal activities outside of Atlanta, and the other woman only knows her as ‘Natalia’. There are no ties that could lead the soldier to SHIELD; still, better safe than sorry.
And yet Carter catches sight of her, tracking her through the wave of arrivals with a furrow in her brow and a downward pull on her lips. Their eyes meet for a moment: artfully outlined green, weary but expectant blue.
They both are older, now, and whether they are wiser is debatable. Still, Natalie notes the precise moment when Carter decides to let it be, to leave the woman she knows as a Russian bodyguard in high heels and a formfitting mini skirt to her own ways. It is enough that they have their own battles to fight; they cannot take on those of others.
Carter finds the person she is looking for, a gray-haired man with worn hands tucked into khakis and slouched shoulders under a leather jacket, and Natalie lingers by a book stand to watch them embrace with smiles that wipe away the other woman's exhaustion.
-
In the wake of the chaos, in the scattered rubble that is left of Washington, Natasha opens the door of her Roanoke safe house to find Brigadier General Samantha Carter (Air Force) standing on the stoop with a faint smile.
“Natasha Romanoff?” The soldier half asks, half states, while the tension in Natasha’s shoulders brings Clint from his seat on the couch to stand by her side. “General Carter. I believe we’ve met before.”
She stares at the other woman, noting automatically the streaks of gray, the further lines around her eyes. Carter still carries herself as though she has lived through a hundred firefights and is ready for more even in high heels and a cleanly pressed uniform, and Natasha wonders where she has gone to war. The same battle-readiness flows through her own veins, carried with the adrenaline and the dust of the organization she had called home.
“I’d like to talk to you about helping us to figure out if HYDRA is in the Stargate program. May I come in?”
Natasha studies her, remembering a hospital in Odessa and the warmth that runs underneath the poise Carter wears like her military stars. She reaches out slowly, accepts the handshake that she is offered; finds the other woman’s grip is firm and warm.
“Please,” Natasha Romanoff tells Samantha Carter, and takes the half-step back to let her in.