Blackhawks Child: told ya :)

Last chapter before the epilogue :) all mistakes are mine ^^


Criminal

6.

Even though he had built half of the room, Clint felt like a stranger when he crossed the threshold. The pale purple of the walls were unfamiliar, the red sheets seemed untouched and messy. Natasha helped him change into his pyjama, keeping physical contact to a minimum again. It wasn't until he slipped under the covers that she sought his presence again. This time, she rolled and snuggled him, head leaning on his good shoulder. Clint knew he shouldn't expect her to let them fall back into a routine, but he should have also expected her to surprise him.

"Clint." Her voice was soft and demanding at the same time. He replied with a quiet 'uh' and waited. Her hand caressed his chest gently, fingers caressing the rumple of his muscles under his shirt. "Tell me. Everything. Please."

He tensed slightly at her request.

"I need to understand," she went on quietly. "Why did you…sacrifice…nearly everything for this. Please Clint, I need to know."

He had to close his eyes a moment. When he had made up his mind and had gone after her, he had promised himself he would hide nothing from this woman he had fallen for, that he'd answer with blunt honesty at whenever she would ask. He knew there was a day where he might need to talk about his past and risk everything they had build. He briefly considered lying and making up a convincing story.

But he remembered he had courted her in spite of everything because a small part of him wanted her to know, to listen, and to accept that part of him. So he inhaled deeply and started talking.


Morning came faster than Natasha expected. She hadn't slept a wink, her hand running through Clint's thick hair the whole time, as his sleeping face was stuck against her breast. She listened to his soft snores, reeled in the warmth of his body wrapped around hers. She'd nearly lost him for good, and while she told herself she wouldn't let her feelings and personal relationship with him cloud her judgment…

Natasha swallowed heavily. Clint had, as she had asked, confessed every single detail of his time in the army. More specifically; under Pierce and Fury's later lead. He had whispered the crimes he had committed back to New York, told her how he had proceeded, how he had acted and decided to where the shooting would occur and other details she hadn't thought of investigating.

It wasn't until the clock hit three that exhaustion took over and he had let himself fall asleep, still mumbling, but this time drifting on their encounter and his first impression on her. She had tried not to feel flattered by the way he described her, how intrigued and then attracted he felt by this rookie cop who just couldn't let go, and much later how he realized that no matter what, she was probably the only person he would ever kill for.

'Worth the risk', he whispered, pressing a soft kiss against her collarbone. 'You were worth me being caught. I couldn't let that bastard hurt you, not after everything you've done.'

He had relaxed immediately after, like a man who had confessed all his sins and would drift to a content sleep afterwards. And Natasha hadn't closed her eyes.

The things he had admitted doing could put him behind bars for years if she decided to turn him in. If. She wasn't sure yet.

A couple of years ago, when she just started to know him, it might have been easier to let her ideals of justice take over and drag him to the closest police station. But after two years of full commitment and a baby sleeping in the nursery, after rebuilding herself with his help and relying on him all this time…she couldn't. It would have been so easier if Clint had been a cheating bastard like Steve was, but no, he had to be even worse. He was a murderer who believed her to be the best thing in the universe and entirely devoted to her and their daughter.

She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply to restrain the sudden emergence of tears. That wasn't what actually tore her from the inside. He loved her, yes, but even psychopath could love in their own ways. No, what scared her most was that she truly, genuinely loved him too. The weeks he had spent in the hospital, the belief he might never wake up had nearly undone her. She remembered the dark hours she had spent by his bedside, wondering how long she'd hold on if he passed away; wondering if her daughter would be enough to make her carry on.

Clint stirred slightly, informing her he was awaking. She took an impulsive decision.

She gently rolled him on his back and straddled his hips. According to the doctor, he was in perfect condition to perform intercourse as long as he didn't push too hard on his ribs. So she slowly leaned forwards and, when she was sure he was aware enough, kissed him.

"Tasha?" he asked when they parted. She ignored him and kept kissing his throat, then headed down, over his chest, taunt stomach, trailing lower till she reached the waistband of his boxers. He was half-hard already. Natasha glanced up and saw her lover watching her with a mix of confusion and desire. That was enough for her. She pulled his boxers down enough and took him in her mouth.

Clint repeated her name, hissing this time, but made no move to stop her. Good. She kept sucking and touching him till he got completely hard, and only then she released him and climbed over his hips to lower herself on him. The familiarity of the act returned smoothly and for a while, she allowed herself to forget their situation, to savor his touch and reel in the pleasure he could give her with little effort. And when he came, she followed, her head thrown back and biting her lower lip to prevent herself from moaning too loud. This time, she curled against him, back to their old position in their old times. His arms went around her waist and hand over her hip. He was warm and breathless and alive.

"I want to stay like this forever," she whispered against his skin. No decision to make, no justice to worry about, no rights or wrongs, just her lover and her daughter in their house. Maybe she should invest in a dog or a cat.

"Have you taken a decision yet?" Clint asked quietly. His hands were running over her cooling shoulder. Natasha closed her eyes and relaxed under his touch further more.

"You never killed innocents," she muttered then shifted and hoisted herself on her forearm to face him. "But if you ever, ever take up a gun and go on a rampage again, then I will take measures to end you. Are we clear?"

She was deadly serious, and she could tell Clint knew.

"And I won't stop you." He promised, implicitly agreeing to her deal. His fingers caressed her cheeks. "Thank you."

Natasha pressed her lips against his to shut him up. She didn't want to hear what he had to say right now; she wasn't ready to deal with it. Clint seemed to understand and let it go. The conversation would probably end another day, but for now, she was content to let it lie there.


Alexander Pierce was not a happy man. First, his unofficial business had been crumbling down. Second, the last man who ever had evidence against him on said unofficial business matters had survived the hit. Third, he had woken up in the middle of the night with a headache and tied to a chair with no means to move.

And three people were surrounding him.

In spite of the lights off, he recognized Maria Fury immediately, her thin and athletic figure standing out in the shadows. Sam Wilson wasn't quite a surprise either, he had always been the most laid-back of the team, but the first to jump into action –no wonder why he had helped Barton set the explosive in the base back then. The last person, he didn't recognize immediately. She was a medium-height, brown haired young woman wearing a long red coat. And then it hit him –she was Barton's babysitter, an escapee from the slaves he had saved along with Maria.

"My, my." He said with a satisfied smirk. "I guess Barton was involved in these shenanigans in the end." None of the three moved. "I assure you whatever that man had told you on me, they are all lies."

"You killed my brother," the red-coat woman said quietly

"You ordered Barbara Morse's death," Wilson added, and even without seeing his face, Pierce could read the anger in his eyes.

"You attempted killing Clint Barton when you realized he had evidence of your business off human trafficking." Maria concluded.

"I would expect you to blame me for your father's death, which I had nothing to do with," he commented.

"I was coming to that. Fury and Barton weren't the only ones keeping files on you. We actually have all the evidence of your deeds." Maria went on calmly. "We found the guy who sabotaged his car. And let me tell you, you shouldn't have let Garrett choose his men, or rather, he should have chosen them more wisely. One of the members of the Hydra gang you hired to kill Barton was more than eager to give us all the details." A cheerless grin grew over her face. "Rest assured, their current hideout is being turned upside down by the data we anonymously sent to Stark right now."

Pierce immediately wondered who might have betrayed him. Garrett had made sure the men he had hired had enough experience in the criminal side. None of them would have talked, he knew it. Except maybe…no, it couldn't have been Ward. Ward was the only one he doubted about, but he had been beaten to death before the attack…hadn't he?

"I find it hard to believe, since I am as clean as a sheet." He eventually said. They couldn't have evidence. Only Fury had everything he needed. And he had sent Barton's safe container to destruction a few months back. He had made sure to trace and check each and every hideout he could find on the two men.

"You mean a sheet that hadn't gone through the laundry yet?" a new voice intervened.

The man had been so focused on what he could distinguish in the shadow in front of him that he hadn't thought of checking his back. Another uninvited guest stepped out of the background and stood into his view. Piece widened his eyes in shock as he recognized the newcomer.

"You?" he sputtered. "But I –"

"You thought I was just a puppet?" the man finished the sentence. Pierce was still too stunned to do anything else but nod. "Well, I have to admit you covered your tracts beautifully, but even I am not that stupid."

Right there, right then, Pierce knew this night was his last.

"So you are going to kill me?" he snorted with a confidence he didn't quite feel. "And then what? People will be investigating this; they will find out the truth."

"The people investigating the case will guess your disappearance wasn't a coincidence. But when the deaths will end, this case will be remained unclosed. Don't even expect Stark or Romanoff to pursue it, especially when they will realize you were the last on the list." The man grew a shark-like smirk on his face. "Stark has a twisted sense of justice. If anything, you ensured that no-one will look very hard for your killer by attacking Romanoff's lover." He stepped closer. "Your business was well-built, I'll admit that. By threatening the right people, you could have hushed the one guy who actually had evidence against you. But you made one fatal mistake. You assassinated the one person I cared for above everyone else."

Pierce swallowed heavily.

"And who might that be?"

"Take a guess." The man retorted, pulling a vial from his pocket. In the background, Maria held a glass of whiskey in her gloved hand and left it on his table in full view.

"You are a well-known fine alcohol drinker and you admire roman culture. Suicide by poison will suit you."

Pierce tried to struggle as Wanda and Sam held his jaw open. The last man then pulled a rather large syringe and pushed enough for a few drops to go down his throat. The man forced himself to cough, but the two forced his mouth shut and waited. Pierce grew hot and warm and started sweating. The poison slowly acted in his veins and suffocated him. The last picture he saw was the face of the last man he had expected to figure him out.

When Pierce finally stopped moving, everyone exchanged glances.

"Is he dead?" Wanda asked quietly, hovering over the body with narrowed eyebrows. The man bent next to the body and pressed his fingertip against the neck to take the pulse.

"Nothing," he replied, confirming the death much to everyone's relief. "Let's set the rest."

"Mind giving me a hand with the pipes and gas Maximoff?" Maria asked her companion. Wanda nodded and followed her to the basement.

Wilson and the other man remained behind to untie the body and move it in a sitting position on the couch. As they lifted Pierce to arrange him in a more natural position, the man huffed at the other:

"You said you'd only have Ward fake a beating to death to keep him clear of suspicions."

"He might have executed Garrett, but he still had a hand in killing Morse. And she was helping Fury working up a case against Pierce. I only gave him a few well-earned punches to make stuff more realistic. The rest was the drugs' work. And don't sweat, he'll live." was the man's guiltless reply. Then he added: "You're the hypocrite one. You downright killed the Rumlow and Sitwell when you heard they were the ones behind the 'accidental drop' of your friend."

"Don't be cute." The other one said.

They didn't speak till they ended their work. They waited until the two girls had return to leave. The girls had opened a gas van and set a small detonator for explosion. Wilson was in charge of making the whole house burn since he was the explosive expert. They drove away and reached a faraway hillside to watch the house explode into pieces. The result gave a large and high flame, but Pierce's house was isolated from his neighbors' and the man had ingurgitated enough poison to kill an elephant. His survival was a hundred percent none.

The show over, they parted ways. Wilson was in charge of driving Maria home while Wanda was to be dropped back by the mastermind.

"You know, you could have stopped Barton from being beaten up if you had warned him in time." Wanda said reproachfully.

The man shrugged.

"I did give him a warning. I called him the very morning before Hydra came to his house, told him he might soon be targeted. But he chose to ignore it."

"How can I believe that?"

"He asked you to pick up his daughter earlier than usual. He wanted to be alone in the house when the hit would happen. He knew that Pierce would go after Natasha or their daughter if he escaped. That guy had an admirable sense of self-sacrifice," The man huffed. "Maybe in another life, we could have been friends."

"He dislikes you because you treated your wife like shit, and you hate him because he made her happy. You were driven against Pierce because he assassinated your precious Bucky. Barton was after Pierce because that asshole controlled a human traffic ring. Unlike you, I don't blame him for delegating to protect the people he loves, because his actions were spurred by a sense of justice. Yours are just revenge for one man," Wanda shrugged then glared at him harshly. "So no, you two could have never been friends."

Steve Rogers shook his head.

"I think you idolize him a bit. Barton is just a man with his secrets. But don't worry, I'll put up an act, close this farce of a case and quit the FBI. As you nicely put it, I only entered this agency because I wanted to find out who killed my best friend."

Wanda shrugged and the rest of the drive was spent in silence. Twenty minutes later, she pointed a spot at the corner of the street.

"Drop me there please. And I hope to never see you again."

"Likewise."

The young woman stepped out of the car, muttered something under her breath and slapped the door closed. Steve waited until she had entered her house to take off, already planning a reasonable course of action to take for the next day.


I chose 'Criminal' as the title because I was listening to that song when I had the idea. (Criminal of Britney Spears). Thought it might fit :)