forgothowtomiss | it's always darkest before the dawn

These were dangerous times they lived in. Their heyday was passed, replaced instead with an army of villains, former allies, twisted by necessity. By the desire to survive. The need to live in a world of their making, a world where they could walk free and never mind the freedoms they had to relinquish first. Some accepted it, embraced it, made the best of a bad situation.

Others, like Clint, refused. He'd never been good at being told what to do anyway, this was just another situation with a yoke he wanted to lose. His registration wasn't compulsory, they couldn't demand it of him even if they'd tried, but he almost wished they would just so he could say the words. Make a stand to their face.

As it was, he fought alongside the same people he always had. He owed them more than he owed these pretenders, respected them more. Knew he could expect the same in return.

He'd been out on a patrol when he got the call. A time and a place, and he didn't need to ask who it came from, that was already understood, although the why was less so. He assumed it was because she had a lead, an in, and they were getting fewer these days but every inch counted. You couldn't afford to overlook anything.

The rendezvous wasn't far from his current position, it didn't take long to make his way there. Quiet, out of the way, a safe point where they wouldn't be seen, out of the way of HAMMER's patrol teams. He blended in with the gargoyles, hid among them while he waited, hunched his shoulders and kept an eye out.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Trying times, these were. Fury playing ghost, the wrong people calling the shots...and her on the 'other' side. It should have been expected from the Black Widow, for her inclination of resorting to being the double-agent. Russia had questioned her loyalty, others since, and now her own team would do the same. She played no part in the resistance, at least...not in the obvious manner. If she was going to help her team and end Osborn's reign, then she had to play the oldest card; keep thine enemies closer. One person deserved to know the truth.

Unwilling to risk recognition, Natasha had slipped into the shadows using one of her many disguises, face obscured by obnoxiously large glasses and hair black and short. To ensure no one tailed her, she traipsed through the streets, doubled back, bought something meaningless in a random high-end shop, and then surely made her way to Barton.

Setting the purchased goods aside and tossing the sunglasses with them, Natasha scoped the rooftop for her partner. Soon to be former. No nerves twisted her intestines, no butterflies ravaged her stomach. This had to be done, whether he saw the merit of her actions or not.

It was the sound of movement that caught the archer's attention, drew his gaze away from the streets below to the more immediate roof. It didn't take him long to locate the source, and he moved to his feet to meet her, leaving the cover of the stone guardians, grabbing his bow as he went.

He was out of uniform, but that hadn't been unusual since the Avengers and SHIELD fell from favor. His current choice blended with the shadows, dark pants and short sleeves that kept his profile down without sacrificing maneuverability, always important for someone whose skill set was most suited to working from a distance and without restrictions.

Tempers had been short in the months since, relationships strained under the stresses of the new order of things, of teammates already lost, of loyalties called into question, and when he saw who it was, he knew instinctively that nothing good would come of tonight. Maybe just a set-back, and that was certainly what he was hoping, something fixable, temporary...but he knew not to hope too loudly.

"Hey." A smirk in greeting, casual, as if this were any other night, as if he wasn't already on edge from everything else, but it was just his way. Play it all off for laughs, play down the severity in public, where he was visible, where he could be watched, it was only behind the security of his own walls that he dropped pretense, and even then it was rare enough these days. He couldn't afford it. "I got your message, what's up?"

Natasha had remained in place, knowing the archer would come to her. She tried to keep a still face, but watching him act so nonchalant and knowing him well enough to see it for what it truly was, for just a fraction, Tasha's features softened into something reflecting sadness. She wondered how badly everything was getting to him, almost wishing she wasn't about to deal another blow his way.

Shaking it off, she crossed her arms and decided not to drag it out or dance around her deliverance.

"I accepted their offer."

'They' didn't need defining, because no one else was scooping up masks with a pseudo-positive spin. It was HAMMER or hiding until someone could restore balance.

The good mood faltered, added tension to composure already strung tight, and he should have seen it coming ever since she'd first told him they were asking, but somehow he hadn't expected her to say yes. Hadn't expected her to make that betrayal, and the step back, the tightening of fingers around the grip of his bow, the disbelieving furrow of brow, he tried to reign it all in, remain impassive, as if it wasn't really so big a deal, but he couldn't. Not this. Not after everything else.

"Oh yeah?" The tone was forced, artificially light, the kind that could probably fool everyone except those who knew him, who knew the difference between projected and reality.

There had to be more to it, he thought. That couldn't be the end of it, it couldn't be that simple, that cut and dry. Nothing ever was with her, but he couldn't say if that was practicality or wishful thinking.

Natasha sighed wearily and let her exhaustion slip through. Looking sideways out at the city, she scolded, "Don't act that way, Clint, how long have you known me?"

She returned her cobalt blues to his eyes and frowned, arms softly folding in front of her. "It's a ruse. Just dabbling in the double-agent façade again. Someone had to reveal this asshole for who he truly is. You know I can do it."

She dropped her gaze over Clint's body and added, "Wouldn't be the first time we were on opposite side."

Only, last time it was because of the bounty on her head and he ended up as her savior.

"Except it's not the tail end this time." It was the closest to agreement as she was going to get from him.

He took another step back, a search for breathing room, an attempted exit, he didn't know, but he hated this plan. It was them he didn't trust, not her, and of course she was the only one who could have taken on the job with any chance of success, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Didn't mean he had to agree to it.

"...You need somebody to come get you out if you need it," he added as he started to put the pieces together, and of course it was why they were here. It was the only reason it could have been. She needed someone to have her back from the outside. And he always would, for as long as she let him. "Somebody who knows which side you're on if the shit hits the fan."

She let him retreat as far as he needed, understanding his actions and willinginly giving him the space he so required. Unless he went to leave her entirely, she would remain firmly in place, because he needed to understand why she made the decision.

Tasha watched him process everything coolly, gently tilting her head to the left. "It wasn't easy...at least, this part isn't. But it's necessary."

She wasn't one to fret over what others thought of her, but she did value trust, and if her team couldn't trust her while out in the field or when she took a place at their side, than what was the point?

"You were the only one I wanted to tell. Who I trust enough."

Nat cast her eyes to his feet and stared, "Clint..." but could't finish.

it's always darkest before the dawn

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject