A/N: Hey guys! Enjoy this next chapter, and R&R!

Disclaimer: This still isn't mine, no matter how much I wish it was.

Clint woke up that mourning with an impending sense of dread. He knew he was probably in deep waters with Fury, but somehow, he didn't care. Natasha was safe, and that's all he cared about.

Just thinking of her panic attack made him want to kill Fury. He couldn't believe he'd driven Natasha that far. It just wasn't right. That was the love of his life, and he'd made her cry. No one does that.

And speaking of the love of his life, he looked over to Natasha. She was still close to him, having been too tired to move the night before.

It was early, and she was still fast asleep. But as Clint watched her, he became to worry. She twitch in her sleep, like she was running from something, and on her face she wore a mask of anxiety. As Clint watched, her fists clenched and unclenched, and reached a hand out, searching for Clint.

Clint gave her his hand, and saw a small smile pop across her face as she gave his hand a squeeze. He couldn't help but let a little smile cross his face as well. He adored how her small slender hand fit perfectly into his, like she was destined to be his, his and only his.

When Natasha woke up, she found Clint playing with one of her red curls. He was twisting it in and out of his fingers, manipulating it to weave unnaturally.

When Clint saw that Natasha was up, he smiled at her, but she just sighed.

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" She asked.

"With me? Of course not." Clint answered. He earned a small smile from Tash.

"I meant with SHEILD. What did they do with traitors again around here?" Tash asked sarcastically.

"I heard they threw them into a dungeon and whipped them silly." Clint answered, equally sarcastic. Tasha lightly punched his arm.

"I'm serious. Do you think they believe me, yet?" Tasha said, suddenly very nervous. Clint looked down at his love's face. She was searching his for some kind of sign, some kind of assuredness that meant she would be alright, but found nothing of note.

"I don't know, Tasha. I really don't know." Clint told her truthfully. She shivered involuntarily. She was afraid. No, more than just afraid. She was scared to death. What if they kicked her to the curb? Off of SHEILD forever? She didn't have anywhere to go. She didn't have friends and family and a home in suburbia waiting for her to return for the weekend of holiday. She had nothing.

Clint watched silently as she bit her lip and fidgeted with her quilt, like she always did when she was nervous or scared. She just wanted to know what would happen to her! Was that too much to ask? Would they execute her, or erase her memory so that she couldn't reveal the secrets of SHEILD?

A booming knock at the door startled Natasha. Clint, seeing his partner start to shake without meaning to, got up and answered. It was Fury himself, with the stunning Agent Hill and two armed guards.

"Fury." Clint regarded him coldly. Fury nodded in response. There was an awkward silence that followed. Clint didn't tell them that they wouldn't come in, but he made it very clear they weren't allowed into the room. Fury reached behind his back and slowly, unthreateningly-like, and took out a pair of handcuffs.

"Barton," Fury started.

"How could you not believe her yet, Nick!" Clint roared.

"This isn't my decision, it's the Council's. They want to interrogate her at one of their facilities." Fury said gently. But Clint didn't move.

Natasha, watching the ordeal, shrank closer to the wall, pulling the blanket around her as if it would protect her.

"Clint, don't make this harder. The sooner we get her there, the sooner we get her back." Fury reasoned, but Clint remained rooted to the spot. After a few seconds of a silent staring contest, Clint sighed, and turned, walking over to Natasha, who was utterly confused.

"Tash," Clint began.

"NO!" Natasha cried. "I don't wanna go, no!" Natasha said, backing up as far as the wall would allow. She sounded like a child, but she didn't care in the slightest.

"Tasha, you have to," Clint tried for a second time. This time, he tried to maneuver his hand into Tasha's, but she wouldn't have it. She pulled away.

"Dammit, Natasha! You WILL GO!" Clint said, yelling at her. Tears stung in the corners of her eyes. He'd never been mad at her. Never made her cry, and certainly never yelled at her.

"You will go and convince them you didn't take their damn file! Got it!?"

"No, no!" She yelled, her tears falling down her face, as Clint roughly latched onto her wrists, pulling her from the bed. He wrenched her up, and looked down into her face. Her eyes were more than afraid. She was afraid of him. And that made him die inside.

He had Natasha pressed up against his chest. She kept fighting him, and Clint held her in place as Hill gently handcuffed her hands in front of her. Tash wasn't fighting anymore. She just kept staring at Clint, tears rolling off of her face and onto her leather suit that she hadn't changed out of the night before.

Hill was careful, nicely taking Natasha's arm and slowly, gently, lead her out the room.

"I'll have Clint bring up some sweats for you before we leave tonight." Hill told her softly.

"No." Natasha said simply. Hill looked at her, confused.

"I'd rather go without them than have him bring them." Natasha said harshly. And just as they exited, Tasha stopped and turned to face Clint, who had a hurt puppy dog face on.

"I hate you, Clint Barton." She said, and meant it. Her eyes bore into him, and if looks could kill, he'd die slowly, Natasha willing him to suffer.

Clint sucked in a breath, dying inside. She'd never said that. She'd never come close to saying that. And before Clint could react, she was gone.

Outside, the agents all looked shocked. They all knew how close the two assassins were, and now this? Even Tasha looked sad. Her tears flowed faster, her face staring intently at the chrome floor. Hill ran a hand soothingly up her arm.

"Shhh, shh," she cooed softly. "I'll be okay, Tash." The use of Clint's nickname for her made her breath hitch. And before she knew it, she was boarded onto a plane to wait for a couple of hours. Hill had gotten her to change into some more comfortable clothing, and when it was time for take-off, at precisely 1900 hours, Tasha was sobbing quietly.

The only person who made a move to comfort Natasha was Hill. Hill sat next to her, taking her hand and giving her a small smile. Tasha gave one last sob before Hill brought her in for a hug. Romanov curled up to her, and soon had her head laid on Hill's lap. She'd long since thought of the agent as an older sister. A best friend.

"Sleep Tash. You have a big day tomorrow." Hill said quietly. Tash nodded, and closed her eyes, emotionally drained.

A/N: So, what'd you think? Please review! It's becoming depressing to write with ONE review. Chapter 5 to be up soon! :D