A/N – Hey everyone. Next chapter is served! And yes, Clint and Natasha have finally been reunited. But…is it the way you all imagine? Well, you'll find out now!

Also, thanks to everyone for reviewing. I was positively, genuinely, absolutely delighted when I saw the review number go over the 30s. It may sound small, but it's the most I've gotten so far. You have no idea how I happy I was! So do keep reviewing. Trust me, any more and I'll start doing Mexican dances (no i do not have a clue how to dance Mexican) in my bedroom and scaring neighbors.

With that said, enjoy this chapter~

Chapter 9 - Do fairy tales ever have happy endings?

Natasha

Natasha stood in front of a grave. She laid flowers on the ground. Brilliant white and red flowers that she had no clue as to what they were, but had a delicate look and wonderful smell she knew he would've loved.

She knelt on the ground, looked at the beautiful stone inscription on the grave that said 'A friend, a warrior and a man who never knew how to back down. You will always remain in our memories.' No tears came to her eyes now. They had long been dried. But words buzzed on her tongue.

"I got him back." She said softly. "I found him, Phil." Ever since he had died, Phil Coulson had become more of a Phil and less of a Coulson. Everyone at SHIELD thought it made him seem more…alive…more…part of the family.

"Fury said you'd be worried. So I came to have a little chat with you." Natasha touched the headstone fondly. "Clint was in trouble for a bit. But he's recovering now. I'll make sure of that." She smiled as she imagined the dead agent and how relieved he would have been. It would have shown on his face.

"But…" Natasha frowned now. "It's been a month since we retrieved Clint. And he's still asleep." Natasha leaned forwards so that her forehead touched the cool sensation of stone. It made her feel as if she was touching Coulson, as if he could really hear her.

"The doctors say all the bones he broke when he fell, all the cuts he sustained from the fight…all of that have healed or are healing. Physically he seems fine. He looks fine!" The words poured out now, the floodgate broken. All of Natasha's worries and complex feelings surged to the surface. "Yet he's still asleep!"

She scratched at the ground with a stick she found. She gripped it tightly – the only sign of her frustration. "I mean why is still asleep! I told him I loved him. He said he loved me! There's nothing stopping him from waking up is there?"

She tried to calm herself, breathing in and out evenly. She knew what Phil would ask now. He would ask what the doctors had said. Professional advice before emotional.

"The doctors say that he should be waking up any time soon now as well!" she cried out loud. The graveyard was mostly empty so she disturbed no one. "I mean, they said he was emotionally tired from the mass of missions he did whilst he was away. That he ran himself ragged, so to speak, and may have needed some time to recuperate…but I mean it's been A MONTH!"

"One month!" She stabbed the ground furiously. "And they still say nothing seems wrong."

If Phil was there, she knew he would've put one hand on her shoulder and shared a warm silence. He was not one to give false reassurance. Rather he preferred to say without words that he was there for her, through thick and thin.

"So why…" Natasha gulped, feeling very emotional. "Why do I feel like something is so wrong? Why does my heart tell me that I should worry, that I should ignore the doctor's reassurance and believe something is wrong? Why?"

Natasha also knew what Phil would say next. If professional advice seemed shifty, then fuck it and just follow her own emotional advice. She grinned through the tears that threatened to appear.

"Got it, Phil." She smiled, letting one tear trace a path down her cheek and fall to the ground. "I'll believe in myself more."

Natasha stood up and brushed the dirt off her jeans. She gave the gravestone one last look. Then she gave a small nod and blew a kiss. Normally, she would NEVER let other agents see her display so much emotion. But for Phil who meant so much to Clint, she would risk that.

"Bye Phil." She whispered. "I'm off to save his ass again."

And as she left, a warm wind blew. It tossed her fiery red hair to one side and made her halt, turn around and grin at the gravestone. "Still up to your old tricks, huh?" she chuckled before walking away. "Spell you later."

Because Natasha may have imagined it, but it felt like the wind just said 'Good luck'.

Even if it didn't, it was good enough for her.

Clint

Drowsy…so drowsy…

Feel…like…sleeping forever. Like never opening my eyes, like never…moving this cumbersome body. Eyes like lead. Arms like steel. Everything is so…difficult to move.

Perhaps…staying here…in this cool, soothing water…is the best thing.

And then…PAIN! Stabbing pain, jolting pain, pain that cuts through to bone. Pain that curls and pain that squeezes. Pain that makes staying in this world…more…desirable… And then the pain is gone. But it hurts still. Aches. Better to stay here, where the cool water washes it away.

Don't wake up. Don't go back.

Stay here….forever…

Natasha

Natasha flung open the hospital doors and practically pelted down the corridor to Clint's hospital room. The nurses had long given up on telling her off. For one thing, they knew she wouldn't listen. For the other thing, they also knew she could avoid crashes easily. She was a SHIELD agent after all.

Skidding around the corner, Natasha launched open the doors and shocked a white-coated doctor who stood by Clint's bed, taking measurements.

The doctor heaved a sigh of relief and said irritably "You could've knocked."

Natasha smiled, feeling lighter at the sight of Clint's rising and falling chest. "Why should I? Not like Clint's going to answer."

The doctor shook his head good naturedly and then replaced a clipboard of paper. "He's doing fine." He said, anticipating Natasha's first question. "But it seems like there's no change."

Natasha sighed. She had expected this. But it was no concern to her; she would wait forever if need be. The doctor patted her on one shoulder and left. Natasha stiffened for a second. It may have been a trick of light, but the doctor's expression had seemed to be one of anger. Natasha's forehead creased as she thought things over. Perhaps he had just been angry with her abrupt entry. Nothing more to add, so she simply vowed to keep an eye on him in future.

Clint right now was the priority. She walked over to where the very-used –and-very-scuffed red chair was. Scooting it over, she sat down right next to Clint and lifted one warm hand. She pressed his hand to her cheek, feeling the warmth pass through her travel-cold face and towards her heart. It was moments like this that reassured her. That said Clint was alive and the chance of him one day waking up was possible.

He twitched. Natasha froze as she felt the movement. She leaned in close to Clint's face, watching intently for any sign of further life. "Clint?" she whispered, breathing onto his cheek. "If you can hear me, wake up please. For me?"

But there was no response. Just Clint's even breathing.

Natasha sighed. No change. She leaned forwards and kissed Clint on the cheek. It felt rough under her lips for it had been days since anyone had shaved him. The soft stubble though, was another sign of life – of growth. It had to be good enough for now.

Natasha let her head fall forwards so that it rested on Clint's chest. She turned sideways to look at Clint, feeling the movement of his chest reverberate through her body. She enjoyed this feeling, the feeling that said he was still a breathing, moving, living being. For a while, Natasha just lay there. Then she closed her eyes. And let Clint's breathing lull her to sleep.

Clint

Breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe more.

Let the water wash over. Let the water soothe, cleanse, promise safety. Promise no pain. He could stay here forever, he could. In these cool ripples he could rest until kingdom comes.

But…what is this feeling? This soft brush of feathers, this tentative touch of…lips? This familiar smell of gunpowder and nutmeg. A bewitching, familiar scent that makes his nose twitch, that makes those eyes which feel like lead flicker and yearn to see red. The same red as autumn leaves.

It feels so…familiar that he wants to wake up. If only to inhale that smell, to see those tempting red flames flicker like candlelight. It only…to touch those feather-light lips again, to taste that sinful chocolate flavor. And he strains to touch that velvety softness. To reach out…to stroke…to caress…

But the water pulls him down, down, down. Down into a deep watery grave. Where light cannot penetrate the surface and all is dark. A cool, comforting darkness. It drags him further down…

And he would be fine with that. If only there wasn't that smell, that touch and that taste.

If only…

But he cannot do anything against those watery chains that bind him tightly. Or against that sudden sharp pain. The pain that makes him curl up and sink further to a realm where pain does not exist.

All he can do right now…is fall…

Natasha

The sounds of soft footsteps woke Natasha up. Not because they were abnormally loud, but because they were too soft. Too deliberate. As if someone was sneaking around.

Natasha continued breathing, focusing on ensuring they were as even and slow as the breaths of someone in deep sleep. She cracked her eyes open a slit and caught sight of a shadow over Clint's body. The dim light told her that she had been sleeping for hours. It was late afternoon by now.

Natasha frowned. There wasn't meant to be any doctor checkups till late evening at least. This…out-of-routine visit worried her. Her first fear was that something had gone wrong with Clint and the doctor was here to check up on that. Then logic told her that the doctor would have woken her so he could've looked at Clint properly. Instead, the doctor had chosen to move quietly – suspiciously.

Natasha tilted her head slightly, so slightly that it would look like nothing but movement in her sleep, and caught sight of a doctor. It took her seconds, but then she recognized him: he was the same doctor from earlier. The one who had given her a brief annoyed expression. The one she had meant to look out for. The suspicious one.

What was he doing? She didn't move as the doctor glanced at her and then waved two fingers under her nose as if to assess if she was sleeping or not. Suspicious indeed.

"Sleeping I think." The suspicious doctor muttered. Seemingly satisfied, he pulled his hand backwards and shuffled through his pockets. What he drew out was a slim black box. That didn't worry Natasha. The injection needle inside did though. Natasha forced herself not to stiffen or move in any way that would alarm the doctor. Instead, she watched as he carefully prepared the needle, tapping it to release bubbles and then positioning it over the IV drip bag.

Just as he was about to inject whatever solution was in there, Natasha spoke loudly. "What are you doing?" she hissed, leaning up and away from Clint.

The doctor jumped. Literally. He nearly crashed into the wall behind him, but he didn't drop the needle. Instead, he lowered his hand carefully and plastered a friendly expression on his face. An expression that Natasha did not trust.

"Oh, this?" he pointed with his free hand to the needle. "It's just a little booster that will help Mr. Barton out. It was prescribed to help his immune system and hopefully aid him in waking up." The doctor's tone was so friendly and warm that Natasha could have almost been fooled. If she hadn't been a spy that was.

But Natasha was a spy –a damn good spy – and so she was naturally suspicious. "Is that so?" she murmured, keeping her eyes focused on the doctor. "When was it prescribed? I don't remember being told this. And I informed staff members to let me know ALL the chemicals that go into Clint."

The doctor to his credit did not stumble. He simply took one step closer and showed her the needle. "That's because you were sleeping." He explained kindly. "We were going to tell you once you woke up."

Natasha still wasn't pleased. "Even so, Clint's injections routinely happen ONLY at 9pm daily. Why do it so early?"

The doctor's forehead creased for a moment. It was a tiny movement but it was enough for Natasha. She reached out with one hand to displace the needle but the doctor ducked expertly. Too expertly for a mere doctor.

Natasha kicked the red chair out of the way and jumped over Clint's prone body. She didn't dare reach for her gun in a hospital and she could see in her eyes that the doctor knew it. Instead she drew her favorite dagger, a tiny silver thing with enough blade to gut a chicken, and lunged forwards. The doctor slid to the right, cradling the needle in one hand and pulling a gun out with the other. Natasha wasn't going to let that happen and kicked upwards, sending the gun spiraling towards the door.

The force made the doctor stumble backwards and he reached out for the walls for stability. Natasha lunged forwards, aiming one fist for his solar plexus. But the doctor blocked – clearly he was an expert in close quarter combat – and leaned in close, delivered a bone-crunching blow to the side of her head and then kicked viciously at her stomach. Natasha groaned as she flew backwards.

The doctor rushed forwards, needle in one hand towards the IV drip bag again. Natasha couldn't let that happen. She skillfully stopped, rose to a crouch and then threw the silver dagger. It pinned the doctor's white coat to the wall and he staggered backwards, stopped. Growling, the doctor ripped his coat off and only just managed to block as Natasha came in for a low blow. Natasha used the force to slide around him, locking her leg around his left and jerking him to the ground. The doctor let go of the needle and it went spinning across the floor. Natasha hopes the loud 'thud' sound as the two fell would attract attention.

But for now, she was on her own. The doctor was on the ground and she grabbed for his arms, pulling it behind him. She was aiming for a body lock. But the doctor was stronger than she thought. He reared upwards, clearly desperate and Natasha was thrown backwards. But she landed as gracefully as a cat and dashed forwards…only to be met with the muzzle of a gun. That went off.

The sneaky doctor had hidden another gun. When he had reared backwards, he had grabbed the spare gun and fired. Obviously he had given up on discretion. Natasha had not been expecting the other gun and took a shot to her stomach. The force of the bullet made her reel backwards and stumble against the wall. She slid to the floor groaning as the doctor reloaded and shot another two bullets at her leg. Natasha refused to give him the satisfaction of showing pain.

Instead, she reached for the nurse alarm button that was just an arms-length away. She knew it would not only alert the nurse station but all the other Avengers as well. And Natasha was never shy in admitting when she needed backup. Especially when Clint was at stake. So she ignored the fiery pain in her stomach and left leg and snatched the alarm button up, pressing it quickly and hearing a comforting buzz. "Help!" she yelled into the machine before the doctor kicked it away.

"You just have to ruin things, don't you?" The doctor snarled, obviously annoyed at his plan being foiled. He walked over to the door, locked it and then shoved the nearby desk against it. "And I was nearly done."

"Doing what?" Natasha asked, desperate to stall for time. Desperate to find out what had happened as well.

"Killing the Hawkeye, of course." The doctor grinned as her. He closed the window blinds, blocking them off from the rest of the world, and then retrieved the needle from the floor. After checking it for damages, he smiled. Not a good sign, Natasha thought.

"You were poisoning him." Natasha guessed. The doctor confirmed her theory with his slight frown that marred his otherwise friendly face. He obviously didn't like her quick thinking as he spat angrily at the ground. Natasha raised an eyebrow. He definitely wasn't a doctor if he treated hygiene so blatantly.

"Yes." The doctor said, resigning himself to telling the truth. "It was a poison injected into his IV drip bag daily. It kills him slowly, so slowly that it will look like a natural death."

"And that's why he's been asleep for so long." Natasha growled, the truth finally coming to light.

"Correct again." The doctor admitted. "But it's a natural poison. One that other doctors would have never detected. After all, why would you detect poison when the patient is here for fighting injuries!" he laughed nastily. "And just a few more shots would have killed him for good."

"No matter." The doctor shrugged. "I guess I'll just have to increase the amount a little and our little Hawk will come crashing to the ground!" He pulled out the black box again and fiddled with several more needles. "As for you, Black Widow…" he looked at Natasha with a nasty expression. "I'll have to make sure you say nothing either."

Natasha growled. She definitely couldn't let the man inject anymore of that poison into Clint. She mentally wanted to beat herself for not noticing this earlier. But she would have to make do with the present. Natasha ignored the pain and lunged for the doctor's feet. She caught him by surprise and the doctor fell. One of his precious needles smashed on the floor, the contents spilling in a viscous pool.

The doctor swore, then kicked at Natasha where the bullet resided in her leg. She hissed as his foot connected and starbursts of pain exploded in her vision. Then he stood up shakily and stood over Natasha with a very angry expression.

"Very well." He scowled. "I'll deal with you first."

Natasha peered up at the man just as the he brought one foot down on her head. She curled up and shielded her head with her arms, but his kicks were powerful and she gasped with each one. This couldn't go on longer. So Natasha kicked the wall, propelling her away from the man and spun around, grabbing his discarded gun in the process. She surged to her feet and suddenly the world shook around her. He had hit her head too many times that her vision was going double. She snarled with anger. The doctor just laughed and then swatted her into the wall.

Suddenly there was a hammering at the door. Nurses no doubt worried at the sounds of crashing and crunching. The doctor realized time was growing short and quickly extracted another needle. Striding over to the drip bag, he unceremoniously stabbed the needle into the bag and pressed the lever down.

Natasha howled as she saw the liquid vanish. She screamed as she saw Clint twitch and groan in his sleep. She cried as the doctor grinned and pulled out another needle.

And she felt a piece of her heart break as she saw the liquid vanish into the IV drip.

That heart of steel shattered.

A/N - Okay, truthfully I cut this chapter short. Originally it over nearly 5000 words. And it was a...little...long. So I broke it into 2 chapters. Don't worry though. This chapter comes out first. Then I'll post the next one first thing tomorrow.

I'll give you guys some time to digest this chapter first. The next one concludes the second fight.