Chapter 10: The Spy and the Engineer
Natasha found the fourteenth note taped to her coffee mug.
Conference room cameras have blind spot in northeast corner. You're welcome.
She stared at it for a long moment, then laughed despite herself.
Four months. Four months of carefully documenting Justin's activities, searching his office when he wasn't there, analyzing his schedule for patterns. Four months of him leaving helpful notes pointing out exactly where she should look if she wanted better intelligence.
It was the most frustrating surveillance assignment of her career.
She was also enjoying it more than she should.
Natasha crumpled the note and dropped it in the trash, then carried her coffee toward Justin's office. It was nearly midnight—she'd stayed late finishing reports, and his lights were still on. The man barely slept.
She knocked.
"Come in."
Justin was at his desk, surrounded by holographic displays courtesy of AEGIS. Technical schematics floated in the air, rotating slowly. He looked tired, the void marks on his arms visible where his sleeves were rolled up.
"Working late?" she asked.
"Always." He gestured to the schematics. "Ivan's first reactor design for Hammer Industries. It's brilliant, but he's working too hard to one-up Tony. I'm trying to find ways to improve efficiency without compromising his vision."
Natasha sat in the chair across from him. "Found your note."
"Did you? Where was it this time?"
"Coffee mug."
Justin smiled. "AEGIS suggested the water cooler, but I thought that was too obvious."
"You've known since day one, haven't you?"
The smile faded. Justin leaned back, studying her. "Since before you walked through the door. Your SHIELD assignment was predictable. Fury wants to know if I'm a threat or an asset."
"And you've been… what? Playing along?"
"Tolerating your presence because I have nothing to hide that matters to SHIELD." He shrugged. "Also, honestly? I enjoy our conversations. You're the first person in this timeline—" He stopped abruptly.
Natasha's instincts sharpened. "This timeline?"
"Slip of the tongue."
"Was it?"
They stared at each other across the desk. Natasha ran through possibilities in her head: mental instability, past trauma causing dissociative episodes, or something stranger she couldn't quite name. Justin looked uncomfortable, like he'd said too much.
She decided to let it go. For now.
"Why do you tolerate me?" she asked instead. "You could have exposed me to your board, made my life difficult. Instead you leave helpful notes and treat me like a legitimate assistant."
"Because you are good at your job. Both jobs." Justin's expression softened. "And because I'm going to be incredibly unprofessional for a moment."
"Oh?"
"I've had a crush on you since the day you arrived."
Natasha blinked. Of all the things she'd expected him to say, that wasn't on the list.
Justin continued before she could respond: "But I've treated you with respect because you're brilliant, dangerous, and deserve professionalism. Just needed you to know that my restraint isn't lack of interest—it's awareness that you could kill me in twenty-three different ways before breakfast."
"Twenty-six ways," Natasha heard herself say. "Actually."
His smile returned. "See? Brilliant."
She should deflect. Should use this admission to her advantage, leverage his attraction into better intelligence access. That's what she'd been trained to do—weaponize emotions, turn vulnerabilities into strategic advantages.
Instead, she found herself smiling back.
"That's the most direct anyone's ever been with me," she said.
"I figured subtlety wouldn't work with you. You'd just assume I was manipulating you, because that's what everyone else does." Justin rubbed his face. "I'm not asking for anything. Not expecting anything. Just wanted you to know that when I'm being respectful and professional, it's by choice, not indifference."
Natasha processed this. The confession was either genuine or the most sophisticated manipulation she'd encountered. But her instincts—honed through years of reading people—said genuine.
He actually likes me, she realized. Not Black Widow. Not the spy. Just… me.
"You're making my job very difficult," she said.
"Good. You make mine difficult too."
"How?"
"By being someone I want to trust even though I know better. By making me question whether SHIELD is really watching me to protect the world or to control pieces they don't understand." He gestured around the office. "I'm building something here, Natasha. Not a threat. Not a weapon. Something that could actually help when things get strange."
"Things are already strange."
"They're going to get stranger."
There it was again—that certainty about future threats, the same certainty that had driven him to recruit Vanko and build his mysterious Ghost Network. Like he knew something he shouldn't.
"Tell me something," Natasha said. "Something real. Off the record. Just between us."
Justin considered her for a long moment. Then he reached into his desk and pulled out a file folder. He slid it across to her.
She opened it. Intelligence reports. Locations. Names.
Red Room facilities.
Natasha's breath caught. "How did you—"
"My Ghost Network is very good at finding things that hide in shadows." Justin's voice was gentle. "I know about your past, Natasha. I know what that place did to you. And I know you want to destroy it but lack the resources for an operation that massive."
Her hands clenched on the folder. "Why are you showing me this?"
"Because I'm offering to help. Work with me—not just for SHIELD but for yourself—and I'll provide everything you need to tear down every Red Room facility and free every Widow they've enslaved."
Natasha's professional mask cracked. Her throat tightened. No one was supposed to know about the Red Room. That information was buried under layers of classified files and false identities. And here was Justin Hammer, arms dealer turned industrialist, offering her exactly what she'd wanted since the day she'd escaped.
"What do you want in return?" Her voice came out rougher than intended.
"Help me build something worth protecting. Be part of the team, not just SHIELD's spy in my organization." Justin leaned forward. "I'm not asking you to betray Fury. I'm asking you to work with me openly, trusting that our goals align more than they conflict."
"You don't know what you're asking."
"I know exactly what I'm asking. And I know you won't say yes right now, because that's not how you operate. You'll take this intel, verify it, report to Fury, and spend the next few weeks deciding if I'm genuine or playing you."
He was right. That's exactly what she'd do.
"But Natasha?" Justin's expression was serious. "I know about Yelena Belova. Your sister. She's still in their system. Still being trained, still being broken. And if we move fast enough, we can save her before they turn her into what they tried to make you."
The world tilted.
Yelena. Her little sister. The girl she'd abandoned when she defected, the ghost that haunted her nightmares.
"How do you know these things?" Natasha whispered.
"I have my sources."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I can give right now." Justin stood and walked to the window. "I'm not asking for immediate trust. I'm asking you to consider that maybe—just maybe—I'm exactly what I appear to be. Someone trying to do good in morally complicated ways. Someone who wants to help you save the people who matter."
Natasha clutched the file folder, her mind racing. This changed everything. If Justin actually had intelligence on active Red Room facilities, if he could provide resources for extraction operations, if Yelena was still alive and could be saved—
This could be a trap, her training screamed. Emotional manipulation. Playing on your vulnerabilities to secure loyalty.
But her instincts said something different. Said this man was genuine, if complicated. Said he was offering her something she'd never have through official channels.
"I need to think about this," she said finally.
"Take all the time you need. The intel will be there whenever you're ready."
She stood, still holding the folder. At the door, she paused.
"Justin?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you. Even if I don't take you up on the offer—thank you for seeing it. For knowing what it would mean."
He smiled. "You're welcome, Natasha. Both of you."
She was in her apartment two hours later, typing a report to Fury, when she realized she'd been staring at a blank screen for twenty minutes.
How do I report this?
That Justin knew about the Red Room—classified information he shouldn't have access to. That he'd offered to help destroy it. That he'd revealed knowledge of Yelena, a name that appeared nowhere in any official file Natasha had ever seen.
That she was starting to trust him.
That she wanted to trust him.
She started typing:
Director Fury,
Hammer knows things he shouldn't. Offers help he shouldn't be able to provide. Either he's the most elaborate long-con in intelligence history, or he's exactly what he claims—someone trying to do good in morally grey ways.
Recommend cautious partnership. If his intelligence on hostile organizations proves accurate, he could be a significant asset.
Personal note: I think I'm starting to trust him, which either means he's brilliant or I'm compromised. Possibly both.
Will continue monitoring and assessment.
—Romanoff
She sent the report before she could second-guess herself.
Then she opened the folder Justin had given her and began cross-referencing the intelligence with SHIELD databases. If this information was real, if Yelena could actually be saved—
She'd do whatever it took. Even if it meant trusting a man who saw through every wall she'd ever built.
Even if it meant admitting that maybe, just maybe, she'd found someone worth the risk.
Outside her window, New York hummed with midnight energy. Somewhere in this city, Justin was probably still working, building his mysterious empire with powers she didn't understand and goals that aligned with hers more than they should.
And for the first time in years, Natasha Romanoff felt something she barely recognized.
Hope.
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