Chapter 6: Hunting the Black Widow
The next day, Clint was on the air strip, looking at his daughter who was whimpering in her stroller. Letting out a heavy sigh, he lifted her up and kissed her forehead. "Hey baby girl," he whispered, cradling her in his arms. Bobbi was watching with a sad smile.
"She'll miss you," she told him.
"Yeah, I'll miss her too," he answered.
Clint kissed her forehead and looked at Bobbi. "Listen, Bobbi, I have to talk to you about something," he told her.
"I think you said plenty the other day," she answered.
"That's what I need to talk to you about," he told her.
He set his daughter back into her stroller, and Clint stroked her cheek before looking at Bobbi. "Look, I'm really sorry with the way I have been acting, especially towards you," he said sincerely. Bobbi pushed her blond hair over her shoulder then crossed her arms over her chest.
"Well you were being blunt about your feelings towards me and about Natasha," she answered.
"We are ready for you, Mr. Barton," the pilot told him.
"Just one second," Clint answered.
Taking Bobbi's hand, he stood in front of her. "I never really gave you a real chance in anything and I've been nothing but angry for the last several months, especially when Katia came into my life," he told her. She let out a deep breath.
"Clint, you don't love me, you've made it clear," she answered.
He kept a grip on her hand. "I might not love you in the way you want me to love you, but I do care for you. You've been nothing but helpful since I became a dad and you do deserve better treatment than I've been giving you," he told her. She gave him a sad smile with tears in her eyes.
"I do love you," she answered.
He gave her hand a squeeze. "I know," he answered.
"Excuse me, Mr. Barton, I'm sorry sir but we must get going," the pilot insisted.
"Coming, Reggie," Clint answered.
Looking back at Bobbi, he suddenly pulled her into a hug. "Take care of my little girl okay?" he asked. Bobbi hugged him tight, nodding.
"Always," she answered.
Clint kissed the top of her head and gave her a sad smile. He squatted in front of his daughter's stroller. "Daddy will see you soon okay, sweetheart?" he said to his nine-month-old.
"Dada," she answered.
Chuckling softly, he leaned into the stroller, kissing his daughter's cheeks. He touched her red, curly hair before standing up and going over to the jet.
(Budapest)
Clint exited his jet and saw the driver waiting for him. "Good evening, Mr. Barton," the Hungarian greeted.
"Good evening, can you just take us straight to the airport?" Clint asked.
"Of course, of course," the man replied, putting his bags into the back of the car.
Clint removed his sunglasses, sticking them into his pocket on the inside pocket of his jacket before getting into his car.
The next evening, in a hotel across town, Natasha was standing in the middle of her room, staring at the far wall when she felt a hand move along her lower back. "Nice, very nice," Ivan hissed softly into her ear. She closed her eyes, wishing he would just go away. She felt him take a lock of her hair and took a deep whiff of the curls. "Lavender, not really a scent for you," he commented.
"Thought I'd try something new," she answered.
She felt nausea build up when he placed his hand on her lower stomach, pulling her back against him. "If you didn't have a job to do, I would just throw you on that bed and have my way with you until you couldn't handle it anymore," Ivan sneered. She kept her food from coming up, letting out a deep breath.
"As always, sir, you have a way with words," She said through her teeth.
Ivan chuckled evilly as his hand continued to move lower and she had to fight every fiber of her being from grabbing his wrist and snapping his hand off. "Now, do me proud," he hissed into her ear.
"Yes, sir," she answered.
She stepped out of his arms and left the room. Ivan watched her go with a sneer. "Oh yes my dear, Natalia, you will enjoy who is at the party tonight," he said with a smirk.
Natasha walked down the stairs, her red curls falling down around her waist as she walked down the stairs. The crowd of people looked up at her as she made her way through the crowd.
Clint was doing his normal routine of interviews, since he was 'standing in' for his father. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of red hair out of the corner of his eye. "Excuse me for a minute," he told the reporter before walking away.
Hurrying through the mass amount of bodies in the room, he saw the red hair again. "Excuse me, I'm really sorry excuse me," he told each person he would pass. All he could think of as he chased this girl was the last time he saw her.
(Flashback: 18 Months Ago)
Clint walked into the cabin with an armful of wood, putting it into the cupboard by the fireplace before tossing a log in. "There, we should be warm now," he commented.
"Even though we've been making our own warmth the last few days," Natasha answered, wrapping her arms around his torso.
Smiling, he rested his hand over hers as he lifted her hand up and kissed her knuckles. "I'm glad you chased me," she commented. Chuckling softly, he looked over his shoulder at her.
"Of course, I'd go to the ends of the earth for you," he answered smiling.
Natasha leaned forward and gave him a kiss. Clint kissed her back, resting his hand on the side of her neck.
(End Flashback)
Clint pushed his way through the last slew of guests, but then to his disappointment, she was gone again. "Natasha?" he called out.
Natasha could hear him, she was hiding behind a pillar. She was going to kill Ivan, of course her next target was going to be Clint again. She couldn't go through with the kill the first time. "Natasha?" she heard him call for her again. Slipping off her stilettos, she ran up the stairs to escape him.
Letting out a deep breath, she dropped her shoes on the floor. "No, I'm not about to have some man get me killed," she muttered to herself. She looked towards the hall she just ran from and let out a deep breath. "I'm going to do it, tonight," she told herself. Grabbing her shoes again, she went back towards her room to get ready to kill her target.
Night fell and Clint was suited up, sitting on the rooftop of the hotel. His grey eyes were scanning the streets, according to the reports, she attacked at this alley. "Perfect place to kill a target, secluded," he murmured. Taking an arrow from his quiver, he strung it up into his bow and aimed easily aimed it for the building across from him. The arrow latched onto the side and he slid down to the ground.
"Barton, what is your position?" an agent asked.
Clint touched the earpiece in his ear. "At your five o'clock," he answered as he made his way, "Bait's been set; time to wait for the widow to bite." He walked through the alley, waiting for the Black Widow to show up. Taking another step he suddenly heard it and he couldn't help but smirk at the fact that she thought she was going to be able to sneak up. Just when she was close and he could hear the sound of her knife leaving the sheath, he spun around with an arrow in hand, aiming it for her when she shoved the bow out of the way, making him miss the shot. Cursing, he used his elbow to hit her in the face when she ducked out of the way, grabbing his bow and throwing it across the alley.
Getting into a defensive stance, he blocked an attack aimed for his face when he grabbed her arm to throw her over his back when she used one of her legs to wrap around the back of his neck, throwing him to the floor easily. Rolling onto his back he jumped back to his feet, kicking her in the stomach when he grabbed her arm that had the knife in it. He twisted her wrist making her lose the grip and he grabbed the knife aiming for her head. Jumping out of the way she kicked him in the chest, making him stumble back.
The Black Widow ran full force at him and he grabbed her around the waist in the attempt to throw her to the alley floor when she tripped him, sending him to the ground instead. Letting out a grunt, he heard the knife clang to the ground. Seeing his bow to his left, he acted as if he were severely injured. Hearing a gun click, he waited for her to come closer. Moving quickly, he grabbed an arrow from his quiver, strung it up in his bow, and fired. She let out a shout of pain and the gun fell from her hand. Getting back to his feet, he made his way over to the injured woman. "So, finally the Black Widow's terror ends here," He said with a smirk.
Taking the discarded gun, he stood in front of her. "Any last words?" he asked. She lifted her head up and when he saw the emerald green eyes, his heart stopped completely in his chest. "Natasha?" he asked in disbelief.