Chapter 1

Title: The High Road Is Hard to Find

Summary: He had been sent to kill the Black Widow. But as he sighted down the arrow something shifted and he suddenly found himself making a different call.

Chapter title: There's a Reckoning A-coming

Author's Note: Hello! It's me again! I managed to finish this story relatively shortly after "Of Bonds Forged in Fire". The reason for that is lately I have had a lot of time on my hands. Like A LOT! And thus, a lot of time ended up being devoted to writing this story. Until a few weeks ago I only had small bits and pieces and a general outline of how this story was going to go, which wasn't much and then the inspiration from the previous story wouldn't leave me alone so this just exploded and now it is finished!

This is the story of how Clint recruited Natasha into SHIELD. Unfortunately it isn't going to be as action-packed and nail-biting as "Of Bonds Forged in Fire". This is primarily focused on talking between characters because as I imagine it, if you bring in a super-assassin there would be A LOT of explaining to do! So this is mostly speaking story, but of course there will be some good old-fashioned action sprinkled in here because that's how we like it!

Chapter titles are from "Blood on my name" by The Brothers Wright.

Well, I think I've rambled enough for now! So enjoy and don't forget to leave a review on the way out! Thx!

Disclaimer: This is written for entertainment purposes only. No profit will be made and no copyright infringement intended.

"I'm far from what I once was but not yet what I'm going to be"

"I swear if we're going to get another repeat of Morocco I might actually kill someone."

Phil Coulson rolled his eyes dramatically at the ramblings of the assassin walking next to him. Clint Barton might be many things, but a complainer about what life had handed him was not one of them. He had been through hell and seen and done more than any should have had to at his age, but he never complained about the hand he had been dealt. But anything regarding small annoyances here and there, the man wasn't shy of expressing his dissatisfaction. Sometimes in the most childish manner.

The soles of their shoes echoed against the white tiles in the hall that led to Nick Fury's office as they walked side by side. Mission briefings with the SHIELD Director himself were a rare occurrence and if they ever happened it would mostly involve only the handlers of the missions who would later relay the appropriate information to the assets. For both himself and Clint to show up at Nick's office left a deep worrying feeling in the pit of Phil's stomach. He had no idea what to expect and no inkling to what they would be told in there. His charge openly didn't share Phil's own worries as he rambled on like it was just another normal day at the office and a normal briefing like any other. But the handler knew better. He suspected Clint was just as anxious to see what all this was about and only hid behind his casual mask of indifference like he always did.

But Phil had been trying ever since he had brought the archer in, a little over four years now, to make Barton open up a bit more and though it had worked in some aspects, it seemed like some habits were too hard to simply break out of and some masks seemed to be glued a little too well to the face. But still, Clint had let him in eventually and let him see what lurked behind the hard wall of a stone cold assassin and it had been worth everything he had had to go through. One of the aspects was that the handler could identify when the mask was in place or if it was the truth he saw.

"Come on, Barton. You had fun on that trip, I know you did," Phil said now with a light smirk playing over his lips.

"Sure, right up until the ambush, everything was rainbows and kittens." Clint's voice was riddled with sarcasm.

They rounded a corner and found themselves in front of the glass door to Fury's office. "Tell you what," Phil said as he grabbed the handle and pushed the heavy slab of glass open. "When we're done with this, I'll put in for a vacation."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Coulson. Besides we wouldn't last a minute out there," Clint argued as he waltzed in.

Fury was waiting for them with his arms crossed behind his desk, eyeing both of them and their light banter. But he did so without any of the old amusement that Phil could normally discern in his eye and his whole body was so tense the handler feared he might pop at any moment. Even the air around him screamed anxiety. He had never seen his friend so absolutely restless. Yet he also seemed slightly victorious. It unnerved Phil because he had no idea what could have brought this state on.

"Nice of the two of you to show up," Fury said. His voice was cool and collected and anything his body wasn't. "Sit."

Barton had already taken one of the chairs standing in front of the desk and had leaned all the way back while he rested his elbows on the armrests. As Phil walked across the large office space he mused that the archer at least had the decency not to prop his feet up on the wooden table like he did during most of their briefings. Perhaps it was because he had already figured out that Fury would probably shoot him in both feet without blinking should he do it.

Nick hit a small button and the curtains slid down over the windows, disrupting the view over Washington and encasing them in darkness. The only light came from the screen that lit up on the wall next to them. Along with a few notes to the side, it showed a large surveillance picture of an older man. His grey hair was held back from his forehead and his dark suit was slightly crumbled.

"Vladimir Angeloff?" Barton said out loud as he recognized him.

"The politician?" Phil clarified and turned towards Fury with frown on his face. From what he understood the Russian was a simple and, surprisingly, non-corrupted politician of the Russian parliament. He hadn't heard of any activity from Angeloff's side that would land him on their watch list.

"What did he do?" Clint asked next to him. Clearly he had reached the same conclusion. Both agents were staring at Fury in confusion, waiting for him to explain.

"He is not our concern. The person sent to assassinate him in a few weeks however is a different story," the Director quickly clarified. He clicked a button on the small remote that controlled the screen and another picture appeared next to Angeloff. This one however was blurry and clearly taken in a rush. The only thing discernible from it was that it resembled a striking, young woman and most noticeable was the flame of red color that was her hair. "The Black Widow."

Phil's stomach fell. Next to him, Clint straightened up in his chair and stared at the screen.

"No way," he murmured. Phil couldn't decide what it was he heard in the archer's voice: awe or disbelief. Perhaps a mixture of both.

Fury continued on, relentless and undeterred by the interruption. "A lot of our own had to sacrifice their lives so we could get a hold of that intel. It sticks. For years we've been trying to track her down and always she has eluded us."

Both Phil and Barton directed their eyes back to the Director, who in turn leaned on his hands across the desk. "This time we have not only her location, but also her target," he continued and now he zeroed in on Clint. "I want her eliminated, Barton. She has been a thorn in the side of every peace-seeking intelligence agency around the globe for far too long. She is to be erased from the map permanently and silently. Am I understood?"

Clint held the one-eyed gaze steadily and without flinching. A feat not easily done. "Yes, sir."

At this, Fury eased up a bit and stood up straight again. The curtains began rising again, slowly letting in the sunlight that seemed very bright all of the sudden. "Good. And I believe I don't have to mention how extremely dangerous she is."

"With all due respect, sir," Barton said as he rose from the chair. A confident smirk played over his lips. "So am I."

Phil had already gotten up from his chair with a slight nod towards Nick and now held open the door for Clint to exit through. As the younger man passed him, he heard him mutter:

"So much worse than Croatia."

They were scheduled to leave only a few hours later and both agents had quickly packed their bags, which never really got to be properly unpacked lately.

They sat in the back of one of the SHIELD jets that would take them to Moscow, waiting for the pilots to get ready and the jet to be operational. Phil watched Clint in the seat across from him go over the way-too-thin manila folder that relayed all there was to know about the Black Widow. It wasn't much … It actually wasn't anything as no one had gotten close enough to her to get a proper description and lived to tell the tale. The grainy photo had been somewhat of a great breakthrough to acquire along with the few details they had managed to gather over the years.

Truthfully, most of their facts were based on rumors flowing from the crime underworld and how much of those that were reliable were impossible to determine. It wasn't much to go on at all. And that unnerved Phil greatly. He wasn't comfortable with sending any agent in a situation when they didn't have any form for overview, least of all Clint. He cared deeply for the agent, but Phil also knew that he was more than able to take care of himself. He was one of the best they had and if anyone could neutralize the Black Widow it would be him.

But that didn't settle Phil's racing heart and frizzling nerves. And judging by the rapid way Clint's leg was bouncing up and down, he wasn't the only one feeling it.

"What do you know of her?" Phil asked. With a figure as notorious as the Black Widow, he suspected Clint would have heard of her during his contract days, back when he was only known as Hawkeye.

"Nothing," Clint honestly replied with a light shrug of his shoulder. "No one does. She was a phantom in the assassin circles; a legend." He tossed the folder back to the small table between them.

"And here I thought that's what you were," Phil tauntingly said, a light smile around his lips.

"Oh no, I made my name and it was feared, yes," Clint stated seriously. Then a wry smile started to spread out on his lips as he rambled on. "But the Black Widow … I mean - If assassins had fan clubs she would be the center of them all. She was the one everyone aspired to be. If two assassins raised little assassin babies she would be the monster they were told about at night so they would behave-"

Phil sighed and gave his smirking charge a simple raised eyebrow. "I get it, Barton."

TBC