Along Came A Spider - Debrief & Strategy

[x-hawkeye.livejournal.com]

Natasha wakes up in an unfamiliar place with a... really familiar foot warmer.


The blankets covering Tasha's legs were loose, not tucked beneath the mattress. Clint had been pretty specific. She'd said the little prong things popped out when she flexed her wrists, so he'd suggested everybody leave the wrist guards alone until they could figure out the poison angle.

He'd also very gently suggested everybody else just fuck right off after they got her evaluated and settled. IV's were off the table for the time being, as were unfamiliar people. At least until Clint had a chance to explain things. Which was why he had his head on the foot of the bed — he was simultaneously napping and guarding the door. If Tasha woke up suddenly, she wouldn't kill him before her brain clicked on. Couldn't be one hundred percent sure about anybody else in the mansion at the moment, though. Better safe than sorry.

Tasha woke up slow, groggy like she'd taken something to help her sleep, and on her back instead of curled on her side, no fingertips brushing against a weapon. Her breathing remained deep and even as she slit her eyes open. Med bay, no restraints though her forearms were still covered by Clint's wrist guards. Blankets pulled up but... she flexed a foot, they were easy enough to kick off in a hurry.

No one else in her line of sight. But there was a body at the foot of her bed. The breathing was familiar. She slowly shifted upright then rolled her eyes as she clocked the familiar bedhead mess of hair near her feet as Clint. So, they were in a secure location at least. Maybe. She didn't see any weapons at hand. Disappointing, but she was nothing if not good at improvising. She nudged Clint with her toes.

"Knife under your pillow," Clint mumbled, nudging Natasha's toes back with his elbow. "Got a gun in my boot. But we're at the fancy mansion." Cracking an eyelid open, he quirked a brow at her. "Feeling better, Sleeping Beauty?"

She immediately reached for the knife, relocating it to under the blankets. With the knife's hilt pressed against her thigh, she was much more at ease. She rolled her head along her shoulders then looked at him again as she slid fingers across the familiar grooves of one of the wrist guards. "Like I was run over by an eighteen wheeler. How long was I out?"

"Twenty-six hours," Clint said, holding one hand up to wiggle it back and forth a little. Straightening, he rolled his own shoulders and stretched his arms over his head as he continued, "Give or take a bit. We're secure here. This place is like Fort Knox."

She made a face. Dead to the world for that long. Completely fucked if she hadn't been extracted and among allies. She wouldn't call this place friendly yet. They knew her as an extension of Clint, and not on her own terms. Though willing enough to agree to conditions. A point in their favor.

"Doc Reyes made sure your vitals were stable. I got a lecture about self-care and stuff. They figured if you were out for much longer, they'd put in an IV, but I asked them not to until they thought it was actually medically necessary." One brow rising significantly, Clint finished, "I did talk to Coulson, though."

Faint curiosity washed over her face. Coulson was second on the list of people she was fairly certain she could trust to her grave and beyond. "And what did he say?"

Smirking a little, Clint said, "He wished you a speedy recovery. But you know that voice he uses when he's pissed? Apparently, he didn't like you going radio silent for four days. I... pretty much implied he and Fury needed to get their house in order, only with nicer words. He obliquely agreed."

Tasha snorted. "He does realize that wasn't by choice? There were no emergency protocols established with him." None that Coulson would've agreed to anyway. Clint and her, well, they weren't who they were without reason. Yearly psych evals always arrived with the precaution for them to work on their paranoia. What did the shrinks know about being in the field?

Then Clint frowned. "I told him about the hourglasses and the poison, since the x-gene was in your file already. It was just the manifestation hadn't happened? Figured you wouldn't mind that too much."

She laid her arm on her thigh then carefully raised the wrist guard to get a look at the mark. She kept it raised so that if something went wrong, Clint wasn't in the direct line of fire. "My files said I was either simply a carrier for the gene or my training had rendered it inert. Guess they hadn't found the right combination yet. Overthinking it, or they didn't want to deal with the complication."

Nodding, Clint continued, "And I told him you'd be in touch once you were awake, but that maybe he shouldn't expect you back at SHIELD any time soon."

Tasha pressed the wrist guard back into place. "Walking back into a SHIELD facility right now would probably sign my death warrant. I received the distinct impression that my cover couldn't have been blown more thoroughly if I'd done it deliberately myself. Whatever assets I have left, if any, will need to be secured and relocated, compromised or not."

Clint nodded. "Pretty sure you can move most of your financials through enough international back channels and Caribbean banks that tracking them would be impossible. Physical assets are going to be more difficult, but I'll bet my friends here would be happy to help. Assuming we need help."

"Didn't you mention someone who could teleport? Normal travel right now is asking for trouble. What would I need to do to secure their services?" She paused then said with amusement. "With your near death by poisoning, we should probably attempt to keep you from over-straining yourself. And this whole mess might mean your birthday present turns into your Christmas present."

Clint frowned. "Good thing the sale on the riad hasn't actually gone through."

"Aw, no, not the riad. I was looking forward to that January trip." The anger was starting to seethe and simmer. Hell wasn't even going to cover the retribution Tasha was going to wreck. It didn't matter how long it took. The assholes that did this to her were in for a world of hurt.

"I mean, we can finalize that, no big, but I thought you might want to put that money toward new safe houses or something. A few of them, rather than just the one," Clint offered, tipping his head from side to side to crack it.

He had a point. She still hated having her actions dictated by outside forces. "Can we put it on hold? Once I get a chance to look things over, and if we can still afford it, I want to get that riad." Her extremely off the books assets, some Clint didn't even know about, should provide a nice foundation for building anew. She'd still be spending months, if not years, getting things back to where they were.

"We've got what amounts to a down payment on the riad. Should hold us over until you've got things figured out," Clint said.

"Play it by ear, like usual."

He leaned back in his chair. Playing things by ear was their usual MO, so no real changes. "Pretty much. So far as the teleportation thing is concerned, yeah. That's Clarice. She's pretty awesome and has, thus far, accepted payment in the form of coffee. You two could probably work something out, especially if you share the location of that French cafe with her."

Tasha nodded. "That sounds promising. How does her power work? Does she need a visual of the destination? And how willing would she be to do all this with no questions asked?"

"Clarice works off GPS coordinates, which comes in really handy. She hasn't asked too many questions when I've asked her to drop me off places or pick me up. That said, she's combat trained, so she makes good backup, if you need it," Clint offered.

"Anyone in the place not combat trained, aside from the kids?" It wasn't the ideal situation. She'd rather no one have an idea of even the general vicinity of her places.

"Not... really? And they're kind of teaching the kids, so." Clint shrugged.

Tasha crossed her wrists over each other and glared at them. "I'm going to have to figure out how to use these things. Without maiming someone unintentionally."

"I mean, they're..." Clint tipped his head to the side. "Probably pretty similar motion to what you used to use with your electric bracelets, right? Those charger packs were pretty intense. The micro EM field generators are easier to conceal carry, that's why you switched over. But..."

He was right. She'd have come to the same conclusion but obviously, she still wasn't operating at full capacity. Even concussed, bleeding, and dealing with broken bones, she'd never been this muzzy headed before. She needed a full blood workup of what exactly her body was dealing with now. "Easy enough to retrain that habit."

"There's this room here, they call it the Danger Room. All kinds of scenarios you can run in there with drone things. Means nobody's actually around to get hurt. And we can run tests on the poison, if you want. Full workup." Clint knew she'd want to. She'd want to know absolutely everything she could about this new, rather inconvenient development.

She was mildly impressed. Even SHIELD didn't have the capability for that. She couldn't count the number of times she'd rather have enjoyed a workout session with no watching eyes or the ability to let loose without having to worry about injuring her sparring partner. "I have a feeling I'll be very well acquainted with that room shortly."

She glanced around, noting the single door, though the ceiling panels would make an egress point if necessary. The room gave off the air of a well stocked hospital. Well prepared and well stocked for off the grid operations. She nodded at the bandage on Clint's arm. "You get rid of your tracker?"

"Mmhm," Clint said, nodding. "Figured you'd either want to do yours or have me do it. We can figure out what the next ones'll be — and the new SOS phrases — later, though."

Tasha sat up more fully and took a deep breath to gauge how broken her ribs were. She bit back a wince. "Think you'll be doing the removal. Not sure I can stay twisted long enough without doing damage." Well, that spike in her heart rate would fall in line with her injuries, and shouldn't send anyone rushing in here.

"Sure, I'll do the removal once we're set up in the suite." Reaching over, Clint tugged at the edge of the blanket nearest him. "We're in an isolated room in the medlab. They're monitoring your vitals remotely, but I've got a suite here — a room. Thought, if you wanted, we could move up there. Might feel more secure with better exits available."

There was probably a warning in place to keep out if Clint camped out at the foot of her bed was any indication. Tasha gave him her amused smile. "You know me far too well. When can I sign the discharge papers then?"

"Matt's here, when he's not in the city. So we'll be good so far as trustworthy food delivery is concerned. Give us time to work out all the bits and pieces we need to figure out," Clint said. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the flash drive Doug had slipped him before they 'ported back to the mansion. "And this is yours. Everything from the facility."

Kronas Corp. probably hadn't tracked her to the fancy mansion, but no point in taking chances. And if they had, then she had some cleanup to do to make sure no one got pulled into this mess unnecessarily. Tasha took the flash drive and flipped it over in her hand. "They seriously handed this over without asking questions? Or taking a look for themselves?" That was a lot of blind trust to be putting on just Clint's word.

"I asked really nicely," Clint said, tone rueful.

"I'm sure you did."

"And that vodka you keep sending me buys a fair bit of goodwill."

"Alcohol, the best way to any operative's heart," Tasha said.

Clint smiled a little. "They're not bad people here. And they understand the kinds of situations we get ourselves into. It's... I dunno, a courtesy, maybe. In case one of us ever needs to go save one of them if they're captured by an asshole corporation or something."

Between the panic probably written across his face and the file they had on him, they weren't going to say no. Especially if that meant calling in a potential favor later. What they had on her was the big question. She glanced down at the flash drive in her hand. A golden opportunity passed up if they truly didn't have any idea who she was. She laughed and ignored the pain it brought. "Well, I have a debt to repay them as it is. Maybe they won't need to call in an SOS to collect."

Cocking his head to the side, Clint said, "You know there's not a debt here, right? Like, it's a favor for a friend?"

"A hostile extraction is just a favor? Their idea of a favor is about as warped as our idea of 'stay safe.'" Having people she didn't know save her life when they didn't even know her or weren't working for the same organization she was went beyond a simple favor. "It's not the same thing as vodka or sour skittles, Barton."

"No, but if anybody owes anything, it's me. Not you. And anyway, you make it sound like you didn't expect me to bring everything I could to get you out." Clint shook his head. She knew better.

"I also knew you were out of the business so your... resources might've been a bit limited." Tasha shrugged. There were very few contingencies she couldn't handle on her own. And if Clint hadn't managed to get her out within a couple days then she'd have figured out something. "You may be the one with your name on the bill, but don't expect me not to help out."

"Alright," Clint said, nodding. "That's fair. Just as long as you don't think you owe me anything."

She grinned. "The only thing I owe you is constant and epic trolling. And maybe vodka. Oh, I think you owe me pancakes, and some of Steve and Andre's Thanksgiving spread. I believe I was promised all of that when I was stateside again." She motioned around them. "And unless you somehow managed to move the fancy mansion someplace else, we are stateside."

Snorting, Clint said, "Yeah, yeah. You're expected at family dinner for Thanksgiving, assuming you feel like heading into the city. Otherwise, you can hole up in my room and I'll bring you back a couple plates."

Tasha did a quick mental calculation and groaned. "It's tomorrow, isn't it?"

"It's totally tomorrow."

She needed a day to decompress and process. That wouldn't be enough to get a handle on her new abilities but she could cover her wrists to keep them out of play. Still, she probably wouldn't be ready for a group gathering. "Ugh, don't skimp on getting me some of everything then."

Laughing a little, just glad things were okay, even if they hadn't gotten everything figured out yet, Clint said, "Have I ever skimped before?"