Based on the poem Ghazal by Mimi Khalvati
(Please review)
Ghazal
Some cultures believed that everyone had a destiny. A set plan that accounted for every choice made very day. Tasha knew better. She was only as useful as her last kill and assassins weren't known for repeat business.
She was unsure why Clint had saved allowed her to live. His government had almost above average killers of its own and they could never place any trust in her. Her mission could not change now; she would not be fooled by the 'good guy' speech.
At first she was standoffish, keeping her distance from the over familial Clint. She refused to take part in his childish antics, hiding in air vents and shooting little foam darts. Yet he managed to worm his way into her life.
Assassins didn't make friends. Just because the arrow with her name on it wasn't through her heart didn't mean it wasn't still in his quiver. She had to trust him, to hope that she had chosen the lesser of two evils when she went willingly.
She allowed SHIELD to claim her with their uniform and their ID but Clint owned her life. He could make the call at anytime and she would be lifeless on the floor. The rest of them were agents, they still had traces of humanity left in them but compassionate assassins didn't last long.
Some days were worse than others. She was used to killing and destroying not saving or rebuilding. When she compared herself to the people around her, real good people like Coulson, she felt too dangerous.
Clint was there to stop her going too far. She knew that he would stop her before too many innocents became collateral damage.
She refused to get attached to him, to blush when he called her 'sweetheart' like the girl in the armoury did. She wanted to be his reward, something worth fighting for. He would no doubt relish the battle, the mazes she would lead him through by throwing out flirty smiles or casual touches.
He was in reality too young for her. He had not seen quite as much bloodshed as she had and he could justify each arrow fired. Her past was not so clean and she was so far below him that she couldn't reach him.
If she could change, if she could be what he wanted then she would. The decision would be instant and she would lay down everything for the life he had given her. She wanted to match him, to be his other half.
They were opposites, him the glowing daylight she the dark of night. She was formed from shadows and back alleys and he was her very contradiction. Every move took them further apart from each other and they could never coexist. He could not survive if she did; he could do so much more good for the world.
Assassins didn't retire, the second they got too slow or began to second guess they were dead. She would fall for him, to repay the debt. He could go on to do great things, to be a hero.
The little girl who was taken by the red room had died long ago and the Black Widow was unworthy of the love he could give her.
She was no good for him, she was tainting his essence. Oil and water didn't mix and she was so much more toxic than he was. Still if they could, if he was willing to sink down to Hell with her.
She would give herself a hundred times over for only a part of him, a part of his honesty and truth. At least he would remember her, remember how she tried to change.
He was her world; he was the only thing that mattered anymore. She had altered her priorities and he was at the top. If she couldn't save the world at least she could give him the chance.
The Black Widow only had two constants; one was death, the other was Clint.