found

It was Coulson who called, which should’ve given her a clue that things had gone very wrong.

He went for the jugular; there was no time to process anything after hello. “Laura, I regret to inform you that Agent Barton is M.I.A. and it’s been impossible to establish contact so far.”

A pit of despair opened at the bottom of her stomach. It was a struggle to stay standing as her knees buckled. Clint was missing—just missing. He could still be found. That made her ask for the only person who would be able to find a way out, “What about Romanoff?”

Coulson sighed. “They were together when the structure collapsed, Laura. They’re both missing, presumed dead by now. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“I need to speak to Fury,” she asked. No, she demanded.

“He’s busy with the cleanup. Agencies tripping over each other for their missing people, yelling about those who got away —you know how it is.”

“Tell him—”

“Laura.” His tone made her pause. “There’s nothing left to do.”

The silence over the line chilled her to the bone, the reality of the situation sinking deep within her, an emptiness growing inside her ribcage where there had only been warmth before.

“I’m sorry. Someone will be in contact later,” he repeated. Then he hung up.

A single tear slipped from her left eye, unbidden. Lila called for her from the kitchen and she quickly wiped it away, determined.

Nat and Clint had a system in place when one of them goes M.I.A., an old radio set up in a safehouse four hours from the farmhouse. All she needed to do was get there and figure out if the connection went both ways. If she knew her partners at all, she knew that not even a structure collapse would stop them.

Laura took a deep breath and went to the couch, threw the cushions aside and opened the base with a pocket knife, getting two bags out. After a quick check to see everything was still in place, she called for her children. “Lila! Cooper! We’re going out!”

Lila arrived first. “Was that dad?”

“No, aunt Ceelia needs our help with something, so we’re staying the night with her,” she lied smoothly.

“Aunt Ceelia’s bed always smells of dead flowers,” complained Cooper.

“It’s called potpourri,” she corrected. “Let’s go.”

While the kids get in the car, she shoots Ceelia a quick message, I need you to watch Lila and Cooper tonight.

Whatever you need, she replied a few minutes later.

When they reached Ceelia’s place, Laura gave Cooper the bag that contained their clothes and necessities telling him to go ahead inside. Lila stayed in the car, not quite throwing a tantrum.

“You’re going out,” she said.

“I just have to run a quick errand for Ceelia, I’ll be back before you know it.”

“When will dad come home? And mama?”

Laura’s stomach tightened. It was too soon to say anything, so she deflected. “Soon. We’ll all be together for your birthday. Can’t miss that.”

Lila brightened up at that. “Do you think mama will have new hair again?”

“We’ll see, honey.”

With that, the girl went inside, just as Ceelia came out to welcome her.

“Thank you for taking them on such short notice.”

“I know it’s gotta be urgent,” she gave Laura a tight smile, the kind that said explanations would be needed.

“I’ll explain everything, but there’s something I gotta do first.”

She looked up and must have found something written on her face because all she said was, “you have three days to come back unharmed.”

“Pshaw, who do you think I am?”

“Someone who doesn’t know when to stop,” Ceelia said, smiling.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. There were plans, contingencies, backups upon backups to avoid this exact situation, but here they were, both trapped inside a fortress with no way to escape or communicate clearly with the outside world. For all they knew, S.H.I.E.L.D. already declared them killed in action.

For the last two days, all Natasha had done was fruitlessly use the device in her belt to call out for help, but the only person who knew where to look was trapped with her. Clint, pulling one of his heroic stunts, got trapped with her in an attempt to get to her. Now they’d both rot underground in a terribly designed train station that the mercenaries abandoned the moment a S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier approached. Obviously, they didn’t see fit liberating the hostages while they were at it.

It wouldn’t have mattered if Clint hadn’t come down himself to liberate the few prisoners the assassins had because then Natasha would have a way out. Clint was the only one who would always find her, no matter what.

No, that was a lie.

There was someone else. A retired operative running a farm with two beautiful kids waiting for them to come home. But dwelling on that thought made something ache inside her, the kind of pain that wasn’t allowed in the Red Room, but that she had been carrying with her the moment she realized they would not leave this place alive.

It wasn’t like her, to succumb to despair so quickly —it was their second day down there after all— but knowing Clint was in the exact same situation, without a way out, was gnawing at her insides.

She promised Laura. 

In their line of work, promises were dangerous, but this promise was simple: never the two of them. Laura made her swear that no matter what, someone would come home. Add it to the long list of unkept promises she dragged behind her.

She rotated her left shoulder, still hurt from the fall after the initial explosion, and a sharp pain went down all the way to her fingers. She must have bruised her clavicle badly enough that it still hurt.

“Nat, pacing around the room is not gonna get us out any faster,” Clint said, a hint of humor in his voice.

“What good is it to sit down with the rest of the Americans crying about their families? I’d rather have a third backup plan.”

Clint shook his head. “There’s something else, you know. It’s a long stretch and—.”

“She must not get involved. She’s retired for a reason.”

“If S.H.I.E.L.D. got to her already, then she already dropped the kids at Ceelia’s and she’s on her way to the safe house, setting up that old radio to the right frequency—.”

“Clint—”

“All I’m saying is, I hope you haven’t drained the battery on that old thing of yours. I know you’ve been calling too.”

Love and warmth spread from her chest, all the way to the tip of her toes. In her line of work, feelings were dangerous —she’d always known that, even as she fell for the two of maybe three people who could possibly understand her— but the way things were looking, there were worse people to be trapped underground with.

Three hours later, Laura found herself in the living room at the safehouse, switching on a computer that was kept in the house. She knew a thing or two about how to find people. It reminded her about all the ways they’ve found each other, and Laura ached. She missed the lazy Sunday mornings when both of them could make it home for the Thanksgiving weekend, she missed Clint’s delicious omelets that were always a little burned around the edges, she missed Nat’s voice drifting from Lila’s room, where she would fashion intricate braids in her hair, a skill Laura had never quite mastered.

She was trying to pull herself together when she realized the ticking inside the grandfather clock sounded a lot like beeping. Not any beeping.

Oh, her spies were smart.

Laura went to the clock and ran her hands over the edges until she found a spot where the paint was chipped. Then knelt down and pried it open with a pointed bobby pin. A small side panel opened to reveal the old radio. The beeping was faint, as if the radio was dying down.

Quickly, Laura connected the earphones and moved the dial up and down to find the strongest signal. Once she found it, she took the whole thing to the table where she set up and started scribbling down the beeping. It didn’t take long to figure out it was morse code, so she tried to translate directly as she wrote down a series of numbers and the words still alive be safe.

Laura swore at Nat in her head.

There was a pause then the sequence repeated, only to be followed by silence. After a quick internet search, there was a destination on her screen and she let herself feel relief.

Laura would find them and bring them home. No matter what.

She wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes and got her burner phone, calling the one number she hoped to never call again.

“Who are you and how the hell did you get this number?”

“Fury, I’ve got confirmation that your level 7 operatives are still alive under an abandoned train station and no one is doing anything to change that.”

Over the line, she heard a robotic female voice say voice recognition match 70%: laura barton. “Laura? What the hell? How do you know that?”

“Someone on the inside.”

“Mission report said it was impossible to make contact.”

“I have my ways.” She breathed a sigh of relief, at least Fury wasn’t blowing her off. “I’m gonna need a lift there.”

“You’re retired. Let me handle this.”

“”Fury, I don’t think you understand this: we do this now and I’m going with you.”

“You really think that after all these years you can just come on a mission because you feel like it?”

“No, I’m coming because this mission? Never happened. They got out on their own. I don’t want my name on this.”

After a low grumble, he agrees, “fine. I’ll call to confirm the lift, Agent 19.”

“Don’t call me that.” She hung up.

One of the Americans —a suit who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time— that had been part of their rescue mission came up to them.

“We will run out of food tonight,” he said. “We’ve checked every room, they weren’t expecting to stay here long, I guess.”

“They wanted to trade you guys for immunity,” said Natasha. “They didn’t plan to feed any of you to begin with.”

The man winced and glanced between the two of them, turning his attention to Clint, who they probably perceived less threatening. “What are we going to do?”

“We stretch it. There’s still a way to get out of here.”

“How? A station collapsed on top of us,” the man said, clearly at his limit.

Instead of replying, Clint got one of his hearing aids out, shook his head, then put it back on. “What were you saying? I think I heard you stating the obvious.”

Nat turned around to face the wall and hide her grin. They could very well be dying and Clint would still try to make her smile.

Suddenly, Natasha’s belt beeped for a long time. She felt the eyes of everyone in the room on her. She took the small device into her hands and flipped it over, opening it to reveal the wires. After the initial beeping, there were three beeps in a quick succession, a pause, another beep, a pause, another beep. A short break and two quick beeps followed by a longer beep.

See u, in morse code.

Natasha looked up at Clint and saw him smiling. “I told you there was something else.”

“I swear to god, If Laura gets so much as a scratch, we’re done.”

“Try telling her that,” Clint said.

After confirming coordinates and agreeing to check in every hour, Natasha placed her beeper back in her belt, shaking her head. If Laura was replying, she must already have a way to get them out. Pride swelled in her chest, knowing Laura always had their back.

“You had a way to call for help all this time and you didn’t use it?” asked the man, hovering on top of Natasha.

“It was a long stretch, didn’t you hear him before?”

“You never tell us what’s going on. We deserve to know,” the man raised his voice. “If we die here—”

“No one is dying,” placated Clint, putting a hand on the man’s chest. That was the only kind of warning he’d receive.

Natasha stared at him, casting icy daggers honed after years of enduring the same worn posturing from countless men before him, men far more powerful and dangerous. This man didn’t stand a chance: he fled before a full minute passed.

“What are you going to tell Laura when she gets here?” asks Natasha.

“Why am I the only one who has explaining to do?”

“We have a deal, Clint. You give me up. Whatever happens, you stay on the other side.”

Clint looked her straight on.

“They were setting explosives on the way out. Are you insane?”

Natasha ignores the question about her mental state. “I had it under control.”

“How?”

“I just did,” she concludes, taking off to do another round of the place. It wouldn’t hurt to know if something had changed in their enclosure.

It took her over three hours but she managed to figure out how to send a message back. It was just a quick see u, but it was enough. Then, thanks to Nat’s quick instructions she managed to narrow down their location using Nat’s beeper.

They agreed to check in on the hour when the chopper arrived at the safehouse. The pilot informed her they were bound to a private strip less than 20 minutes away. The rest of the flight, Laura fidgeted with the strip of her bag.

At the private strip was Maria Hill, waiting for her, her uniform crisp, not a hair out of place.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” greeted Laura.

“I could say the same,” she gave her a tight smile. “Go inside, suit up. I’m flying us there.”

Laura entered, taking in the familiar S.H.I.E.L.D. logo plastered on everything. She sighed when she saw they gave her a S.H.I.E.L.D. operative suit, but put it on anyway, knowing it would protect her better than her ordinary clothes.

Neither Fury nor Maria asked about how she made contact, they were quick to believe Laura and provide assistance. Maybe because Clint and Nat were that important to S.H.I.E.L.D., maybe because they, too, had debts to settle.

The flight was both short and endless, she spent the entirety of the flight working out possible contingencies if the unfinished tunnels proved to be a fruitless idea.

When they landed by the side of the hill, all Laura wanted was to get it over with, even with the dwindling light of day. She looked at Maria and Fury and said, “they get out tonight.”

“If you hadn’t retired, Fury would report to you,” Maria said, then picked up a bag and started walking. Laura, with a bag of her own, wasn’t far behind.

Distractedly, Natasha tapped at her belt, beating the same old pattern I love you, be safe like a mantra. She didn’t waste her battery on actually sending the message, but she hoped it reached Laura anyway.

She found herself back at the entrance of the abandoned train station, where the rubble had trapped them. She couldn’t stop thinking about the layout of the place: the station was never finished, so there were no tunnels currently open for them to follow and the two underground offices didn’t connect to each other. It was as if it was never meant to be built in the first place.

However, the group of mercenaries seemed pretty comfortable waiting the agencies out to get immunity in trade for their guys. There had to be another way inside. Natasha went back to the rails and checked once again the end of the tunnels: wood, wood, and more wood.

Then she heard a saw from the end of the tunnel, a loud one at that.

Her belt beeped with a message. Move back.

Natasha moved as far back as she could, a hand resting on her knife while she charged the weapon on her right wrist. There was no telling who was on the other side. Her shoulder groaned with the movement, but it wouldn’t slow her down.

Clint, who must have heard the saw as well, came rushing in, bow and arrow ready.

Not a moment later, the closed tunnel opened to reveal a disheveled Laura wearing an operative suit covered in sawdust. Natasha had seen her in it before, but rarely, as they were assigned to wildly different missions during their brief overlap at S.H.I.E.L.D.. Natasha held her breath, this had to be a hallucination, no one would let Laura herself come down to rescue them.

Behind her, emerged Fury, not a dust speck on his black coat.

“I heard someone declared two of my best operatives dead without even looking for bodies. They should’ve known they’re like cockroaches, the damn things.”

Natasha deactivated her weapon, lowering her hand. “Laura?”

“For everything he knows how to do, Fury is shit at operating a saw,” she said, setting it down.

Throwing years of training down the drain, she ran towards Laura, Clint not far behind her. When Natasha hugged Laura, she felt as real as some of her nightmares. When Clint hugged them both from behind, she was sure she was awake, all parts of her fragmented soul pierced together again, gold seeping between the cracks to mend it all.

“Now, as much as I love a reunion, we do have to be out of this hellhole,” said Fury. “You might wanna tell those poor fuckers that we’re leaving.”

Clint is the first to let go, dropping a kiss on Laura’s forehead as he did, then a quick kiss on Natasha’s head. She was handling it, she would keep herself together. As Clint left, Laura let go as well and Natasha missed her immediately, but there was a time and a place and now was not it.

“Agent Romanoff?” asked Fury.

“Yes, sir. I’ll help bring the men down.”

 Fury gave her the side eye. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

“I’ve learned that with you, sometimes asking only leads to more questions.”

“Agent 19 was correct in her assumption that you would communicate with someone.”

“Don’t call me that,” warned Laura.

Natasha looked at Fury squarely. “There’s always a contingency. Even if this is one I would’ve preferred keeping it a secret.”

Fury’s mouth curved with the hint of a smile. “You should update your emergency contacts, since yours got stuck down here with you this time.”

“I might. I just might.”