Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Author's Note: Sorry it's a day late, but better late than never! I love this chapter and would appreciate your feedback on it. Sorry I didn't get to personally message each reviewer before posting this chapter, I figured you guys would rather me type away a new update than bore you with a reply. I do really appreciate your reviews, it is why I try so hard to update on time. (Alas, I failed this time, but it's a longer chapter than originally intended!). Happy reading!

Chapter 9

So the story goes: Hawkeye was sent to kill the Black Widow, but by some luck, he managed to best her in a hand to hand match and saw that she deserved another chance at life.

Or so the story goes.

In reality, it was the Black Widow who approached Hawkeye, months before Fury gave him the Top Level assignment. She told him that she knew how SHIELD worked, that with his reputation of assassinating from afar, he would be the one picked to kill her. Hawkeye had the knowledge that she took out four SHIELD agents sent to kill her before hand, her assumption wasn't far off. He's heard from the grapevine the plans, and he wasn't stupid. He had the best chance, if he survived to tell the tale after she cornered him in his own safe house, disabling all the surveillance cameras inside. She was that good. But greatness was tiring and she wanted out, a peaceful sleep six feet under was the only solution she saw, and she only wanted to meet her end with Hawkeye.

She told him where to meet her. How she would like to be killed and set up to make it look like she wasn't meant to be killed. She told Hawkeye that she was tired, that she wanted out.

Funny how she trusted him then, as a kindred spirit who she thought could relate to he did then, when given the opportunity surprised her. He did as they both planned, took her out from afar, at a pre-determined location, but he merely put her to sleep to capture her and bring her back to base to plead her to look for a chance at a new life. She believed him then, that she could balance her ledger, that she deserved to have a chance to be happy.

That was then, she was not as naive any longer.

She paced.

Natasha Romanoff did not pace. She did not fidget; it simply was not in her nature. She was Natasha Romanoff, Natalia Romanova, the Black Widow, a name renowned throughout the dark corners of the world. Yet there she was, fidgeting. It was hours ago when she left the grocery store, only able to watch Clint for so long before her heart could not take it anymore. He looked happy; happier than he ever looked with her. There was no question in her mind that Clint Barton adored that family and that the family adored him.

She looked around at the unfinished work that was their – his – farm house. The house that he promised to finish by the end of the year, but was side tracked with "helping out." When he first told her that he was spending all his time helping re-construct a house for a family who reminded him of his own, she did not think anything of it. Out of anyone she has ever come in contact with, she knew that hands down, her husband had the biggest heart in the world. Throw in some kids who need some help, and he would be there at a moment's notice. But there was a fine line with helping out a family and becoming a part of it. What she witnessed at the grocery store was a different level of gratitude and attachment to Clint Barton. While Natasha knew that Clint would never cheat on her, she also knew that he could not help what he was feeling. The distance he was slowly, if not unconsciously, wedging between them was a sign.

So, she did the one thing she was good at. She hacked the files of the grocery story, found the dates that Clint ran a charge for the credit card of the alias they used and cross checked it with the video feed. She watched him with the small family, as he grew more comfortable with them. As another woman and her children leaned on Clint for support and to play the role he looked like he was born to play.

Two hours passed since she started digging up the archives, three hours since Clint left for the store until he walked through the door. One hour since Natasha made her decision to pack her bags and catch the first plane back to New York the following morning; thirty minutes since she drafted the legal documentation needed to end her marriage.

"Hey!" Clint greeted, the biggest smile on his that he's given her since before she left for that Stark mission. (Yet another reason to torture Stark when she came to New York and lived in his Avenger's Tower. She would go to her place, but regardless of whether or not it was the place she kept when she needed to be alone, she knew there were traces of Clint everywhere. She could not go to her New York apartment, or their apartment, or her dorm at the carrier or in any SHIELD installation, none of her safe houses around the world that she stocked with a re-curve in case she and Clint Barton needed to run.)

"Hey," she smiled at him, a soft smile, one she used many times while she was undercover. Her Clint would have noticed the difference, how the smile did not seem to reach her eyes, but this Clint did not.

"I picked up a bunch of your favorites from the store," Clint said bringing in bags and bags of groceries.

"Thanks!"

"What do you think? Eggs Benedict? I know it's a little late for brunch but –"

"That sounds great," Natasha stated, her voice sounding flat to her, but adding fake enthusiasm. If Clint could not figure out her smile, he would not figure out the tone of her voice. It mean that he was too busy in his own head to notice the bread crumbs she was throwing his way.

"What do you want to do today?"

"I'd like to walk around the property."

"I can pick up Lucky and we can take him for the day? You don't sound so good, Nat."

She shook her head. So he did notice.

While she did not sound or look better, more exhausted from what she recently found out, Clint looked refreshed and happy. So much so that she could not believe the turn around that he experienced just by spending time with a small family.

"I'm fine, I just… I want to walk around."

Clint nodded. "I'll get started on brunch, you pack the basket, we can eat outside."

She smiled at him. "Thank, Clint."

Natasha packed the large picnic basket they had in the kitchen for all the food they would need for the day outside. She picked them perfectly, with the precision as to not think about the papers that were sitting on the office desk upstairs, or that it would be the last day she would spend with Clint as his wife. She listened intently as he sang to himself as he cooked breakfast and dismissed the thoughts in her mind wondering if he sang while he cooked for the family of one Laura Brown and her children. For one day, Natasha vowed that she was going to shut off her mind and just feel. She was going to enjoy her last moments with the one person who meant the world to her, one last time.

"You ready?" Clint asked her, looking at her analytically as a hawk knew to look. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll be better," she admitted, standing up from the dining table and closing the picnic basket where Clint placed cut up fruits and their brunch. "Just need some fresh air."

Clint grabbed hold of the picnic basket from her arms, determined to carry it for her as they walked in silence, next to each other, about a mile into the property and up a small hill.

Wordlessly, Clint opened the basket to spread out the blanket and the food letting Natasha wander around the area. She seemed like she had a lot on her mind, starting from the façade that she placed when he greeted her at the door. Honestly, he had a great morning with Laura and the kids, forgetting all about Loki until he walked through the farmhouse and was hit with the memories of what he did just by looking at Natasha. Yet, hearing Laura talk about her estranged husband brought a twist in his gut, because his wife needed him. He was not the only one who had to fight for their world to continue spinning. She had to face the horrors in a different way.

"Nat? Are you alright?" he asked, grabbing her hand to pull her towards the blanket he set up.

"I'm fine," she shrugged.

"You don't wanna talk about it?" he pressed on.

She shook her head. "I'll be fine. Just thinking."

"That's a hard profession you're taking on, Romanoff. Don't think too hard."

"It's Barton."

He smiled at her. "You are a Barton, and thinking always gets us Bartons in trouble."

"I almost lost you, Clint," Natasha said, picking at the plate of fruit.

"But I'm still here."

"I… Yeah."

"I'll always be here, Nat. We signed a contract, remember?"

A contract. Not a marriage, a contract. Natasha shook her head at the thought. She was being ridiculous. She was the one who had papers drawn up to leave the wonderful man in front of her. The man who could read her face and voice when nobody else, not ever herself, could at times. On their walk to their spot, Natasha had time to re-think her actions, she was being rash. She acted like a woman scorned, when Clint came home to her after a couple of hours, when she knew in her heart that he'd done nothing against their marriage and was only trying to help a struggling family. She ran a background check on Laura Brown, knew her finances and the absent husband she had, who she knew nothing of his whereabouts. She found the troubles that Laura had to keep a job and take care of her family and knew that Clint would have felt the need to help a woman, much like his mother, through the hard times. She sympathized and could not blame him.

She could not leave him.

"What happened? With you, and the carrier," Clint asked her, gently. She shook her head. She should be the one comforting him, his mind was made a playground by a crazy demi-god who wanted nothing from Earth but to rule it.

"That's not what's bothering me," she admitted.

"What is it, Nat?"

"I just…" she shifted to look at him. He was looking at her the way he always did, part analysis of a hawk and part awe of a man. She loved that look, and she would miss that look if he tells her what she already knows in her heart. "I… was thinking about children. Kids, you know."

He tensed. Ever so slightly, and if she did not know him like she did, she would not have noticed it.

"What about kids?"

She took in a breath. "Do you ever think about having them? You know? Just two kids running around."

He paused. Longer than he would admit, his eyes never left hers. He schooled his features, he knew he had a slight tell. Knew that if he told her the truth, it would break her heart. Since Lila and Cooper entered his life, he thought about kids almost daily. He wished that those kids were his, that the kids were given a chance to experience a life with a father, and that he would be given a chance to become one. Become theirs. But that was a pipe dream. Lila and Cooper were not his kids.

"No," he lied.

She knew it.

He knew she knew it.

"Clint…"

But if there was one true thing about Clint Barton is that while he had many wants, there was one thing he needed in his life, and that was Natasha.

"You are everything to me, Natasha. I don't care about anything else."

She didn't look at him as he told her. Instead, she looked past him, not ready or strong enough to watch his left eye twitch. A twitch so miniscule that she knew Clint worked hard to control it.

Natasha had her answer; it was the answer that she knew she would get from him. The Black Widow part of her knew it, and accepted it when she went on autopilot typing legalese on a paper to end her marriage, packing her bags, and booking a flight to Manhattan before she could even think about the treachery that Clint committed against their partnership and marriage. Still, the part of her that was Natasha, the one who fell in love with her insufferable partner held onto hope. The weaker side of her that allowed herself to open up to the archer in front of her and believe that maybe, the universe owed her one thing. Maybe, the universe would finally give her peace and happiness.

Good things do not happen to people like you, Natalia, the voice of the woman, whose name she could not remember resonated in her mind. Good things did not happen to Natalia Romanova. Good things did not happen to Natasha Romanoff-Barton. This was proof of it. She had too much red in her ledger for good things to happen to her.

"I have too much red on my ledger," she stated.

That was the last of their conversation for the day. They were used to moving in silence, and that was what they did. Clint lent back against the tree, and Natasha was more than happy to absorb the feeling of completeness in his arms, for what she knew would be the last time.

She went through the motion as they walked back to the farm, hand in hand. Cherished the kisses and held back the tears as he undressed her in their bed to make love to her. Tears that she let fall when she unwrapped herself from his embrace quietly in the middle of the night, threw on her clothes, grabbed her bag, and started the long hike to the airport.

She almost didn't look back.

Until she reached the end of the path, on top of what, officially, was their spot in the past tense and looked back at the farm house.

A moment passed.

Then another.

It was a horrible thing to stand on top of a mountain with the moonlight announcing where she was. But she did it. She did not hind behind the shadows as she would for the rest of her life.

She stood on that mountain top for the last time as Natalia Alianovna Romanova Barton.

Another moment.

Another breath.

She moved her legs and forced herself to move on. With a heavy heart, she placed one foot in front of the other, hiding once again the shadows.

There was nothing for her there anymore.

Hang in there my pretties! The sky is darkest before dawn.

Comments and criticisms are desired.