Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel comics or characters or movies, and am making no money off of this fic.
AN: Written for the October 23rd Whumptober prompt: self-sacrifice.
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The Decision by luvsanime02
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Natasha Romanoff makes the decision, because she knows that if Clint hears about it, he will first. She can't allow that to happen. Clint's been waiting his whole life to sacrifice himself for someone else, to die so that someone else can live, to be the ultimate hero.
Really, though, deep down inside, Clint just wants to be loved.
Well, Natasha loves him. She loves Clint a lot, so much. He's one of her favorite people, and she can't just stand by and watch as he throws his life away on a suicide mission.
So, Natasha does it for him.
She knows when she walks into that building that she's never coming back out again. The deadly Black Widow, and she'll never be able to say to Clint that she's sorry, but he'll understand. Of course he will. He'll hate it, and possibly hate her, but he'll understand.
Natasha is fine with being hated, even by Clint. She's had plenty of practice at being hated by others. She just wants to do something meaningful. Maybe she's the one who wants to die a hero. Maybe that will erase the fact that she was born a villain.
Whether or not it actually does, though, at least Clint will be safe from this mission. Natasha walks through the doors and doesn't watch them close behind her, doesn't take one last look back. If she does, then he'll realize what she's doing. No, she can't act any differently than usual.
Natasha will get the information, and she'll send it back out, and then, she'll be caught. No matter how good she is, and Natasha is very, very good, it's impossible to remain undetected in a place where they're expecting you.
She has no doubt that there are cameras watching her even now, recognizing her face. Natasha can feel the itch of them between her shoulder blades, like a sniper waiting to shoot. Natasha holds her head high and her gaze steady, and doesn't falter, doesn't stop. She keeps on walking, that's all she has to do, and when her job is done, she only hopes that this won't hurt her comrades, her friends, too much.
(It will, she knows. They will all blame themselves, and Natasha wishes that she could spare them this agony, but that's the price that those who survive must pay.)
Natasha waits to spring her trap, knowing that theirs has already closed around her and no longer caring. In a way, it's something of a relief to know. She can't fall back anymore. No, she can only move forward from now on.
Natasha's never been one to retreat, anyway.