Day 18 [2014] . The Princess Is In Another Castle . Avengers (MCU) x Grimm . gen
Title: The Princess Is In Another Castle
Author: jedibuttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not
Rating: PG-13
Prompt/Prompter: thady, who asked for: "Grimm/MCU, Clint + Natasha. A sequel/continuation to Jorōgumo dealing with the aftermath of CA: The Winter Soldier."
Spoilers: Grimm Season 3; post-Captain America 2
Notes: It just so happened that Grimm 3.17 "Synchronicity" aired the same day Cap 2 opened; I thought that made for an interesting convergence of events! Also, if you're wondering how I chose Clint's species? Here's the Grimm Wikia article. :)
Summary: Never in her life had Natasha ever expected to be responsible for broadening a Grimm's horizons. But this wasn't the time to gloat; she still had work to do. 1900w.
Three days after Natasha publicly eviscerated SHIELD to expose the cancer that was Hydra, the burner phone she'd kept with her every second since finally rang.
She'd been so sure when she'd uploaded the contents of SHIELD's database to the Internet that nothing in the system would expose any of her teammates. Steve was right there with her, Coulson was... gone, Stark had undoubtedly stripped anything that might threaten him or Banner out of the files years ago, Thor was a god, and Clint's farm house had never been recorded anywhere in the system for just such a contingency. Not that they'd been expecting Hydra, exactly; but they hadn't become who they were by trusting bureaucracy, and even Fury could be overruled. But for three days, she'd heard from everyone but Clint.
Fury had sworn that Clint had been on an off-the-books op in Europe, one that wasn't in the files, and so would have been out of immediate danger. But off-the-books in that context usually meant wesen-related, and in the aftermath of the events in DC, that wasn't exactly a comfort. If Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD so deeply, it was likely that the organization was embedded in both the Verrat and the Laufer as well, given that Hydra historically also employed wesen. And if either group had caught Clint in their territory... as a raubkondor even more skilled at hunting than the norm for his notoriously dangerous species, employed by a third party who had no interest in seeing either faction win, he hadn't exactly made friends on either side of that shadow civil war.
She hesitated only a second, bracing herself for the possibility that someone other than Clint was on the other end of the line, and swept her thumb across the screen to answer. "Yes?"
"Nat?" Clint's welcome voice sounded in her ear, and Natasha briefly closed her eyes, allowing herself a breath of relief.
"You're late," she growled. "You were supposed to call in days ago. Are you safe?"
"What do you think?" he chuckled roughly-- then coughed and made a pained noise.
"Clint?" she said sharply, hand tightening on the case of her phone.
"Ow, no, calm down. I'm okay. Just a little bruised and chilled; and I probably shouldn't stay in one place too long. Hundjäger don't make the greatest hosts in the world, even when they're not spouting Hydra slogans. Which, what the hell, Nat. Give a guy some warning, would you." His tone was at least as much offended as it was hurt.
She winced. "You know I would have if I could have. But you weren't here, and I didn't have time to track you-- and Fury swore your op wasn't in the files."
He snorted. "It wasn't; I think it was more an accident they found out who I was, not bad intel. I was tracking the rumors about the King's new grandchild, and stumbled into a faceoff between the Verrat and some new Laufer agent. I went up a tree to wait, and the Verrat had a steinadler with them when they came to pick up their dead. They have a new leader again, by the way; I'm pretty sure the last one's been permanently retired."
"Not a forgiving bunch, the Royals," Natasha replied, dryly. "So you're still in Europe?"
"Nah; I played cargo, caught a ride back over the ocean. But Stark Tower's locked up and under a shitstorm of surveillance, and I can't be sure I don't have eyes on me. I can't risk bringing this back to the farm. I've got other boltholes, but most of those were in SHIELD's files. You got any recommendations?"
Most of Natasha's boltholes had gone the same way as his, along with all of her established aliases. And she couldn't be sure she didn't have eyes on her either, given her role in the upcoming Senate hearings. Bringing him to DC was out of the question. So where did that leave?
She chewed over the question for a minute-- then blinked as an absolutely terrible idea popped into her mind. She did, in fact, know one place in America where peace between Kehrseite and wesen was competently enforced, usually to the detriment of any interloping Royals or Verrat. She'd faced a pretty chilly welcome there herself until she'd sworn not to take any prey in the city. And they happened to have another contact there as well; Coulson's cellist, who also wasn't in any SHIELD file.
"Portland," she said, before she could think better of it.
"Portland?" Clint replied in disbelief, coughing again. "Didn't you say the place is ruled by a Prince now? One with a Grimm on his payroll?"
"A bastard Prince nominally aligned with the Resistance. And a Grimm who doesn't kill indiscriminately. Neither one tolerates Verrat in their city; I can't imagine they'll be any more tolerant of Hydra. They should be able to provide you a place to go to ground until things clear."
He sighed. "All right. Better call and warn 'em; I'd hate to have to shoot anyone by mistake."
"Wear sunglasses and keep a sharp eye out. And don't worry; I'll call ahead. Can you make it that far?"
"In a jiff. Portland PD, right?"
"Right," she confirmed. "Be careful, Clint."
"You, too. I'm not the one facing the vultures on the hill. Between you and me, I'm not sure whose beaks are sharper."
"Oh, what webs we weave," Natasha chuckled in reply, then hung up. He'd contact her again when he got there-- and meanwhile, she felt as though a huge weight had slipped from her shoulders.
Now to ask forgiveness rather than permission. She lowered the phone from her ear and tapped through her contacts, searching for the number she'd entered from a business card months before.
The phone rang once, then twice, then again; then it connected, and a cautious voice replied. "Burkhardt."
"Not to worry," she said by way of greeting, guessing that most calls a Grimm received from an Unknown Caller didn't tend to go well. "I still have no intention of leaving a trail in your city."
There was a pause on the other end; then another cautious reply. "I didn't expect to hear from you. Ever, actually. Shouldn't you be talking to my Captain?"
"Good ear," she said; though she wasn't actually surprised. As a hunter, the only being capable of outmatching most raubkondor was a Grimm, and no doubt he remembered their initial meeting as clearly as she did. "And under normal circumstances, I would. But I have a friend seeking asylum on his way to your city right now, and given the current climate, the less official notice, the better." Not that she expected Renard would be a threat to Clint; but with princes and police captains both came administrative staffs, and any one of them could be a leak. He'd be better informed in person. But one surprised a Grimm in his territory at their own risk.
"You're kidding me," Burkhardt blurted, sounding more surprised than she'd expected. "Another fugitive? Don't tell me, the Royals are after this one, too."
"They might be," Natasha replied guardedly. She hadn't heard of any recent incursions in Portland; but then, her intel streams had been a little restricted since she'd left for that mission to the Lemurian Star. Everything had happened too quickly after that to keep track of anything but the next steps in front of them. "Is that a problem?"
"Is that a problem," Burkhardt repeated with a dry, disbelieving chuckle. Then he sighed. "Look, I don't know how much of a refuge this place will be-- we've got a lot of eyes on us right now. Prince Victor von Whats-his-name just flew out last night, we have two hundjäger in the morgue, and I know of at least one more still in the city. Wearing an FBI uniform, no less. Given how stirred up the feds are right now over what happened back east, I can't exactly just storm into his office and confront him."
That was an interesting tidbit. "Victor was in Portland?" With the hunt for the Royal child still going on in Europe?
...Or had it shifted a little closer to home? "Did he get them?" she added.
"Get who?" Burkhardt replied, sounding baffled.
"Your fugitive." Natasha rolled her eyes at the phone.
"Oh... uh." Okay; maybe not a complete idiot, just stalling to come up with an answer. "No. They're... somewhere safe. With someone I trust," he admitted, in a low voice.
"Then that's who Victor will be looking for, not my fugitive." She resisted the urge to ask if that fugitive was a certain infant, with or without its mother. Clint would find out. "And clearly, you can defend your city. All Barton needs is a place to go to ground for a little while. A few days, maybe, until he's sure he's no longer at risk."
Burkhardt considered that; she heard faint brushing noises over the connection, like a hand whisking through disheveled hair. "I assume he's wesen, too?"
Under any other circumstances, Natasha would have hesitated to answer; asking a wesen third party about someone else's species was like asking a Kehrseite to hand over a naked picture of a friend. But it wasn't like Burkhardt wouldn't find out shortly after Clint arrived; he'd end up woging in front of the Grimm sooner or later. Best not to risk him being caught off guard by Burkhardt's reaction.
"Yes," she replied, in clipped tones. "He's a raubkondor. That's...."
"The hunting species?" Burkhardt cut her off, exasperation roughening his voice. "Of course he is. Just... tell him he'd better keep his hunting out of the city, too."
For a Grimm who didn't seem to know much about his ancestors' traditions, he'd certainly met an exotic range of wesen in his few short active years. Good thing she had brought it up; it didn't sound as though his first meeting with a raubkondor had had any happier an ending than his previous acquaintance with spinnetode.
"As long as you're willing to make an exception for Verrat, I don't think that'll be a problem," she replied.
He considered that a moment longer, then finally caved, tone thick with sarcasm. "All right, then. What's one more thing on my plate? A grieving hexenbiest after my friends, hundjäger FBI agents in my city, getting tapped to play best man at the wedding of a fuchsbau and a Weider blutbad-- helping another fugitive ought to be a piece of cake by comparison."
"Try taking down an international intelligence organization and helping crash three helicarriers into the Potomac," she replied, dryly. He'd picked the wrong person to complain to. "It hasn't been that great a week on this end, either."
That caught his attention. "Wait-- the redhead on the news! That was you?"
A wry smile curled the corner of her mouth. "Pleasure doing business with you, Detective Burkhardt," she replied lightly, and hung up.
Never in her life had Natasha ever expected to be responsible for broadening a Grimm's horizons. But this wasn't the time to gloat; she still had work to do.
She dialed another number from memory, then put the phone back to her ear. One more call, and then she'd check in with Steve again-- or Sam, who'd be more likely to answer-- and pass on the news.
-x-
Author: jedibuttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not
Rating: PG-13
Prompt/Prompter: thady, who asked for: "Grimm/MCU, Clint + Natasha. A sequel/continuation to Jorōgumo dealing with the aftermath of CA: The Winter Soldier."
Spoilers: Grimm Season 3; post-Captain America 2
Notes: It just so happened that Grimm 3.17 "Synchronicity" aired the same day Cap 2 opened; I thought that made for an interesting convergence of events! Also, if you're wondering how I chose Clint's species? Here's the Grimm Wikia article. :)
Summary: Never in her life had Natasha ever expected to be responsible for broadening a Grimm's horizons. But this wasn't the time to gloat; she still had work to do. 1900w.
Three days after Natasha publicly eviscerated SHIELD to expose the cancer that was Hydra, the burner phone she'd kept with her every second since finally rang.
She'd been so sure when she'd uploaded the contents of SHIELD's database to the Internet that nothing in the system would expose any of her teammates. Steve was right there with her, Coulson was... gone, Stark had undoubtedly stripped anything that might threaten him or Banner out of the files years ago, Thor was a god, and Clint's farm house had never been recorded anywhere in the system for just such a contingency. Not that they'd been expecting Hydra, exactly; but they hadn't become who they were by trusting bureaucracy, and even Fury could be overruled. But for three days, she'd heard from everyone but Clint.
Fury had sworn that Clint had been on an off-the-books op in Europe, one that wasn't in the files, and so would have been out of immediate danger. But off-the-books in that context usually meant wesen-related, and in the aftermath of the events in DC, that wasn't exactly a comfort. If Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD so deeply, it was likely that the organization was embedded in both the Verrat and the Laufer as well, given that Hydra historically also employed wesen. And if either group had caught Clint in their territory... as a raubkondor even more skilled at hunting than the norm for his notoriously dangerous species, employed by a third party who had no interest in seeing either faction win, he hadn't exactly made friends on either side of that shadow civil war.
She hesitated only a second, bracing herself for the possibility that someone other than Clint was on the other end of the line, and swept her thumb across the screen to answer. "Yes?"
"Nat?" Clint's welcome voice sounded in her ear, and Natasha briefly closed her eyes, allowing herself a breath of relief.
"You're late," she growled. "You were supposed to call in days ago. Are you safe?"
"What do you think?" he chuckled roughly-- then coughed and made a pained noise.
"Clint?" she said sharply, hand tightening on the case of her phone.
"Ow, no, calm down. I'm okay. Just a little bruised and chilled; and I probably shouldn't stay in one place too long. Hundjäger don't make the greatest hosts in the world, even when they're not spouting Hydra slogans. Which, what the hell, Nat. Give a guy some warning, would you." His tone was at least as much offended as it was hurt.
She winced. "You know I would have if I could have. But you weren't here, and I didn't have time to track you-- and Fury swore your op wasn't in the files."
He snorted. "It wasn't; I think it was more an accident they found out who I was, not bad intel. I was tracking the rumors about the King's new grandchild, and stumbled into a faceoff between the Verrat and some new Laufer agent. I went up a tree to wait, and the Verrat had a steinadler with them when they came to pick up their dead. They have a new leader again, by the way; I'm pretty sure the last one's been permanently retired."
"Not a forgiving bunch, the Royals," Natasha replied, dryly. "So you're still in Europe?"
"Nah; I played cargo, caught a ride back over the ocean. But Stark Tower's locked up and under a shitstorm of surveillance, and I can't be sure I don't have eyes on me. I can't risk bringing this back to the farm. I've got other boltholes, but most of those were in SHIELD's files. You got any recommendations?"
Most of Natasha's boltholes had gone the same way as his, along with all of her established aliases. And she couldn't be sure she didn't have eyes on her either, given her role in the upcoming Senate hearings. Bringing him to DC was out of the question. So where did that leave?
She chewed over the question for a minute-- then blinked as an absolutely terrible idea popped into her mind. She did, in fact, know one place in America where peace between Kehrseite and wesen was competently enforced, usually to the detriment of any interloping Royals or Verrat. She'd faced a pretty chilly welcome there herself until she'd sworn not to take any prey in the city. And they happened to have another contact there as well; Coulson's cellist, who also wasn't in any SHIELD file.
"Portland," she said, before she could think better of it.
"Portland?" Clint replied in disbelief, coughing again. "Didn't you say the place is ruled by a Prince now? One with a Grimm on his payroll?"
"A bastard Prince nominally aligned with the Resistance. And a Grimm who doesn't kill indiscriminately. Neither one tolerates Verrat in their city; I can't imagine they'll be any more tolerant of Hydra. They should be able to provide you a place to go to ground until things clear."
He sighed. "All right. Better call and warn 'em; I'd hate to have to shoot anyone by mistake."
"Wear sunglasses and keep a sharp eye out. And don't worry; I'll call ahead. Can you make it that far?"
"In a jiff. Portland PD, right?"
"Right," she confirmed. "Be careful, Clint."
"You, too. I'm not the one facing the vultures on the hill. Between you and me, I'm not sure whose beaks are sharper."
"Oh, what webs we weave," Natasha chuckled in reply, then hung up. He'd contact her again when he got there-- and meanwhile, she felt as though a huge weight had slipped from her shoulders.
Now to ask forgiveness rather than permission. She lowered the phone from her ear and tapped through her contacts, searching for the number she'd entered from a business card months before.
The phone rang once, then twice, then again; then it connected, and a cautious voice replied. "Burkhardt."
"Not to worry," she said by way of greeting, guessing that most calls a Grimm received from an Unknown Caller didn't tend to go well. "I still have no intention of leaving a trail in your city."
There was a pause on the other end; then another cautious reply. "I didn't expect to hear from you. Ever, actually. Shouldn't you be talking to my Captain?"
"Good ear," she said; though she wasn't actually surprised. As a hunter, the only being capable of outmatching most raubkondor was a Grimm, and no doubt he remembered their initial meeting as clearly as she did. "And under normal circumstances, I would. But I have a friend seeking asylum on his way to your city right now, and given the current climate, the less official notice, the better." Not that she expected Renard would be a threat to Clint; but with princes and police captains both came administrative staffs, and any one of them could be a leak. He'd be better informed in person. But one surprised a Grimm in his territory at their own risk.
"You're kidding me," Burkhardt blurted, sounding more surprised than she'd expected. "Another fugitive? Don't tell me, the Royals are after this one, too."
"They might be," Natasha replied guardedly. She hadn't heard of any recent incursions in Portland; but then, her intel streams had been a little restricted since she'd left for that mission to the Lemurian Star. Everything had happened too quickly after that to keep track of anything but the next steps in front of them. "Is that a problem?"
"Is that a problem," Burkhardt repeated with a dry, disbelieving chuckle. Then he sighed. "Look, I don't know how much of a refuge this place will be-- we've got a lot of eyes on us right now. Prince Victor von Whats-his-name just flew out last night, we have two hundjäger in the morgue, and I know of at least one more still in the city. Wearing an FBI uniform, no less. Given how stirred up the feds are right now over what happened back east, I can't exactly just storm into his office and confront him."
That was an interesting tidbit. "Victor was in Portland?" With the hunt for the Royal child still going on in Europe?
...Or had it shifted a little closer to home? "Did he get them?" she added.
"Get who?" Burkhardt replied, sounding baffled.
"Your fugitive." Natasha rolled her eyes at the phone.
"Oh... uh." Okay; maybe not a complete idiot, just stalling to come up with an answer. "No. They're... somewhere safe. With someone I trust," he admitted, in a low voice.
"Then that's who Victor will be looking for, not my fugitive." She resisted the urge to ask if that fugitive was a certain infant, with or without its mother. Clint would find out. "And clearly, you can defend your city. All Barton needs is a place to go to ground for a little while. A few days, maybe, until he's sure he's no longer at risk."
Burkhardt considered that; she heard faint brushing noises over the connection, like a hand whisking through disheveled hair. "I assume he's wesen, too?"
Under any other circumstances, Natasha would have hesitated to answer; asking a wesen third party about someone else's species was like asking a Kehrseite to hand over a naked picture of a friend. But it wasn't like Burkhardt wouldn't find out shortly after Clint arrived; he'd end up woging in front of the Grimm sooner or later. Best not to risk him being caught off guard by Burkhardt's reaction.
"Yes," she replied, in clipped tones. "He's a raubkondor. That's...."
"The hunting species?" Burkhardt cut her off, exasperation roughening his voice. "Of course he is. Just... tell him he'd better keep his hunting out of the city, too."
For a Grimm who didn't seem to know much about his ancestors' traditions, he'd certainly met an exotic range of wesen in his few short active years. Good thing she had brought it up; it didn't sound as though his first meeting with a raubkondor had had any happier an ending than his previous acquaintance with spinnetode.
"As long as you're willing to make an exception for Verrat, I don't think that'll be a problem," she replied.
He considered that a moment longer, then finally caved, tone thick with sarcasm. "All right, then. What's one more thing on my plate? A grieving hexenbiest after my friends, hundjäger FBI agents in my city, getting tapped to play best man at the wedding of a fuchsbau and a Weider blutbad-- helping another fugitive ought to be a piece of cake by comparison."
"Try taking down an international intelligence organization and helping crash three helicarriers into the Potomac," she replied, dryly. He'd picked the wrong person to complain to. "It hasn't been that great a week on this end, either."
That caught his attention. "Wait-- the redhead on the news! That was you?"
A wry smile curled the corner of her mouth. "Pleasure doing business with you, Detective Burkhardt," she replied lightly, and hung up.
Never in her life had Natasha ever expected to be responsible for broadening a Grimm's horizons. But this wasn't the time to gloat; she still had work to do.
She dialed another number from memory, then put the phone back to her ear. One more call, and then she'd check in with Steve again-- or Sam, who'd be more likely to answer-- and pass on the news.
-x-