A/N: I own nothing related to Marvel
This was written for my loyal reviewer Spitfire303, I hope I did okay for you.
"Unless someone cares a whole lot, it's not going to get better." –Dr. Seuss, the Lorax
"I know you're up there." She said looking up toward the roof tops along the alley she was walking through.
She spun around and crouched low when she heard her stalker land behind her.
"Now I'm down here." He had his hands up in the air, his weapon slung across his back.
Slowly she stood up, looking him over. "You're shorter than I thought."
"You're younger than I thought."
"Who sent you?"
He pierced her with a stare," SHIELD."
"So why am I still here?"
"Honestly? I'm not sure." He through her off guard when he let out a chuckle. "I was sent to take you down, but things changed."
She stared at him, waiting for him to continue while she finished formulating a plan of attack and escape.
"I've been following you for two days now, I saw you with those kids. You're not a killing machine, Widow."
She wasn't expecting a statement like that, but she didn't let that stop her from going through with her plan. She walked closer to him, noting how his body tensed just a fraction.
"You can be better than what you are now, if you want." He said taking a deep breath, already knowing she was planning on attacking.
"Is that so?" she asked before attacking.
She was quicker but he had more upper body strength. They blocked each other's blows until he managed to get both hands on her upper shoulders and push her back into the wall. She tried to knee him but he twisted one of his legs to block it with his own knee. She hooked one leg around his other one and tried to pull it out so he would fall away from her but all she managed to do was get it to buckle just a bit, he was still able to maintain his hold on her.
"Be still." He told her, resting more weight on her. "Even though you attacked me, I want to offer you a job. Come to SHIELD and you can be my partner."
She stopped struggling, "SHIELD wants me dead."
"Yes, they do; at one point they wanted me dead as well. The agent that brought me in made a different call, now I'm returning the favor."
"I don't know what you think you know about me, but I can't change."
"Everyone can change, if they care enough to try."
"Not me, I'm not like most people."
"I know that, which is how I know you can change. Despite what your file says about you, I saw you at that shelter. I saw you helping those kids. And I know about the dog."
She caught his eye on that one, but stayed silent.
"You have a choice to make, you can walk away from this life and join me at SHIELD or I can kill you now. What'll it be Widow?"
"I think custom is to let the person have a little time to think about taking a new job offer, so I'll need a day to think about it."
"So you can skip town, or come after me in my sleep?" he laughed, "I think not."
She actually relaxed just a hair at his laugh. Anyone in their line of work, who could still find laughter in the things around them, was a foreign concept to her. She narrowed her eyes which caused the grin to slide off his face.
"Fine, I accept your job offer."
He looked her over, searching her face for what, she didn't know, before letting a smile come over his feature again.
"Coulson is going to flip." He released her and took a half step back.
"Coulson?"
"My handler, Agent Coulson, he is also the one who brought me in."
"If he is your handler, shouldn't he been somewhere nearby or listening in remotely."
"Who says he isn't?"
She lifted one eyebrow, and one side of her mouth twitched as well.
"So where too?" she asked.
"She's a Russian assassin."
"And I'm an American assassin, what's your point?"
"We don't know why she's here."
"She wants to change sides."
"Change sides? What are we a football league?"
"We could be."
"Barton."
"Oh come on Coulson, you gave me a second chance. Why not her?"
"That was different."
"How?"
"You've seen her file, you know what she's done, what she is capable of."
"Files can be wrong, she could have killed me in that alley. We both know she wasn't using all her skill, she wasn't even breathing hard when I pinned her."
"She could just be playing you, playing SHIELD."
"I don't believe she is."
"And you know best do you?"
"Well I like to think so."
Coulson rolled his eyes before he sighed.
"Fine, I'll talk to Fury, vouch for her and your state of mind."
"Thanks, Phil."
"Don't thank me yet."
It was a couple of days later when Clint finally found time to check his email. Opening one from Phil Coulson, he grinned and hit print.
When Widow, now being called Natasha, was finally released from SHIELD's psych ward she was given temporary quarters just down the hall. Clint escorted her to her new room and stopped just inside the door while she looked around her new living space.
It was bare, a bed attached to the wall with a dresser and night stand. It was the frame on the nightstand that caught her attention. She walked over and picked it up.
"'Unless someone cares a whole lot, it's not going to get better.' –Dr. Seuss, The Lorax" she read out loud.
"Do you really believe this?" she asked.
"Yeah, I do. I'm living proof of it."
She set the frame back down, "I hope I will be too, one day."
"You already are." He said softly.
A/N: Thanks for reading.