A few notes on the story: each chapter begins with a flashback, it is almost completely written so updates should come every day, and I will put additional warnings at the top of each chapter as they apply.
This story is rated M for violence, mentions of past abuse, torture scenes, and later sexual content.
Please don't hesitate to review! I would love to hear what people think.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters/organizations/plotlines related to them. If I did, we'd have a lot more Black Widow and Hawkeye.
Thank you to Plucie, dbonisolli, and BlackHawk's Child for reviewing the last chapter.
A word about the delay in updating. I'm really sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. I'm almost caught up to the point that I have written through, which makes posting everyday a bit more challenging. I also had some family stuff come up last night (nothing bad), that sapped my energy and made it impossible for me to post before class today. As it is, I will do my best to keep posting everyday. However, tomorrow I present my thesis, so there won't be a new chapter.
Red Room, Location Unknown—1995
Natalia tried not to let her fear show as she stood in the room alone. She hadn't been told anything, just grabbed and shoved into this room. She'd been in there for a long time, it seemed. But she couldn't really tell. They were working on learning how to gauge time, but no one was very good at it. Natalia knew it had been more than an hour but less than five hours.
Her lips were trembling and her fists were clenched when the door finally opened. She'd been wondering if they'd forgotten about her. Her stomach growled, a reminder that she may have missed lunch. That would really suck because that meant she might not get anything until tomorrow.
Two men walked into the room, both holding guns. One of them stayed by the door while the other looked at Natalia with detached interest, as if she was some sort of experiment. Maybe she was.
Natalia kept her fists clenched at her side, wanting to demand what was going on. But she wasn't supposed to ask questions or speak unless spoken to.
The man watching her suddenly raised his handgun and aimed it at her.
Natalia's eyes widened, but she remained firm. This was a test, she couldn't flinch away from this. She wouldn't disappear like the other girls. She had nowhere else to go, so she would stay here and be the best.
CRACK!
The bullet ripped into Natalia's arm before she had time to react.
Her hand came up automatically to the wound as a scream left her lips. The tears she'd felt early at the thought of being stuck in the room forever spilled out of her eyes. Natalia bit her lip to keep her choked sobs from making any noise. It felt like her whole body was on fire…
That guy had shot her…
Glaring at the man, Natalia squeezed her arm, pain shooting through her body. She studied his face, memorizing it. She wouldn't forget him and when she left, she'd make sure he died.
The two men turned and left, leaving the girl standing alone in the room once again.
Unable to stand any longer, Natalia sat down against the wall, cradling her arm against her chest, trying not to think about the warm blood sliding between her fingers.
Budapest, Hungary—2008
Clint couldn't help staring at Natasha as they sat in a street cafe in Budapest. They'd been trailing Von Brecht for the past two days and were now sitting across from the store she'd entered. It was an expensive store, and it'd probably be a while before she emerged. They hadn't gained any valuable information about her plans in those two days, but they knew that Von Brecht wasn't stupid enough to wander around unarmed. It had made tailing her difficult at time.
When they weren't watching from above, Clint and Natasha were working as their covers. And Clint loved that part of this mission. He watched as Natasha smiled at the kids playing on the street in front of them. They were kicking a ball around, yelling and running and just having fun.
Clint wondered if Natasha ever had fun like that before she was taken. Watching her right now made him feel like he wasn't seeing her cover, he was seeing a bit more of the real Natasha Romanoff.
Feeling his gaze on her, Natasha turned to him, still smiling, "What?"
He shrugged, "You're beautiful."
Natasha rolled her eyes as he caught her hand and brought it to his lips for a second. He didn't let go once he'd lowered it to the table.
"You're a sap," Natasha told him.
He shrugged, he never said he wasn't.
Von Brecht stepped out of the store, holding onto a paper bag embellished with the store's logo.
Natasha stiffened and focused her attention on the woman while Clint pulled out his wallet and dropped money on the table, more than enough to cover their drinks.
Von Brecht surveyed the street, blinking in the sunlight before she pushed her sunglasses off her head and over her eyes. She began walking away from the store, carefully navigating the cobblestones in the heels she wore. The group of kids sent the ball flying towards her, making her stop and wait while they converged in front of her, fighting over the ball. She looked disgusted by the group, Clint half expected her to kick them.
He and Natasha surreptitiously slipped out onto the street, Natasha lacing her arm through his and standing a bit closer than she needed to. Clint couldn't help but smile as he imagined the picture they made, two happy lovers. If their lives had gone differently, would they have ever been able to be something as simple as that?
He wasn't sure. They probably wouldn't have met. But for a moment, he found himself craving a future where they could stroll down the street as lovers without worrying about anything.
They spent the afternoon tailing Von Brecht, stopping to shop in the stalls around the areas she stopped at. The two assassins didn't stop smiling, and though their report would say it was all undercover, they both knew that the smiles were genuine.
Von Brecht had to be the most boring criminal mastermind in the history of the world, Natasha figured. For days, all she'd done was shop and eat and stay in her hotel. The woman didn't seem to be doing anything while in Budapest let alone trying to start World War III. But Natasha knew looks could be deceiving, that's how she always got away with things. No one suspected a pretty young girl, just like no one suspected a woman who seemed to have nothing better to do than shop. If Natasha hadn't read the file on Von Brecht and known stories about the woman from the Red Room, she would have been questioning the kill order.
As it was, she already wondered if they had to do it by the end of the week. It would be best if they could figure out what the plan was before they killed the woman, that way they could ensure no one else tried to complete it. When she'd mentioned that to Coulson and Clint over breakfast, the handler had shrugged saying "we have our orders."
Now sitting in a nice restaurant, Natasha studied the woman who was speaking to the young waiter. She seemed to be waiting for someone else, gesturing towards the empty place across from her.
"Who do you think she's meeting?" Natasha asked Clint as she sipped at her wine. They'd ordered a meal so as not to appear out of place.
Clint shrugged, "Probably someone who wants to sell her the actual city, it seems she's bought pretty much everything there is here."
Natasha smiled at his comment, he had a point.
A tall blonde woman walked into the restaurant, sitting down and kissing Von Brecht on both cheeks. They embraced and sat down, sending the waiter scurrying away with their order.
"ебать все," Natasha muttered. (Fuck everything.)
Clint raised an eyebrow.
"Can't hear," she said nodding her head towards Von Brecht and her companion.
"Yeah, I can't read their lips either. No idea what language they're speaking at all," Clint nodded in sympathy.
"Shouldn't we be trying to figure out her plan before we take care of it?" Natasha complained a few minutes later. They'd been mostly silent as they ate their food.
"Probably," her partner shrugged in response. "But who are we to tell the Council how we should do our job?"
"It's like they purposely set us up for failure," Natasha pointed out. "I get that they don't like either of us, but wouldn't they put the world ahead of their feelings?"
"You'd think so, especially since they have so much influence over SHIELD and the world. But no, instead they'd prefer hate us and try to destroy us or just generally give us shitty assignments."
"Sometimes I wonder if I'm really any better working here than with the Red Room," Natasha admitted quietly.
Clint reached out and took her hand, "We see the list of horrible things. The Council may make questionable decisions more often than not, but they are trying to make the world a better place. I think that there are times when you have to take the best you're going to get, and in this world, that's the best we're going to get."
Natasha nodded, "Still, it would be nice to actually trust the people you work for."
Clint chuckled, "I trust them more than any of my previous employers. Hell, some of my previous employers have hired me and then put out a hit on me so that they don't have to deal with paying the other half or having me talk."
"Fair enough."
The assassins turned their attention back to the two women across the room. They were talking animatedly and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. The blonde seemed like an old friend of Von Brecht, which probably wasn't a good thing, but there was nothing to tell Clint and Natasha what the women were doing.
"Another fascinating day in the life of Anita Von Brecht," Clint muttered as he surveyed the women, annoyance etched across his face.
Clint fastened the guards onto his wrists and hands, flexing his fingers to make sure they weren't too tight. He shouldered his quiver, bow, and sniper rifle case before heading out of the bedroom. Phil gave him an appraising look before nodding. Natasha stepped out of the bathroom a moment later, dressed head to foot in her suit and armed to the teeth. She and Clint exchanged nods as well.
Tonight, they were going after Von Brecht, and they were going to succeed at taking her down. It shouldn't be too hard. Von Brecht always spent her nights in her hotel suite, windows and drapes closed. She remained away from the windows then, making a long distance kill difficult (but not impossible).
Natasha would be going in as a maid from the hotel, dropping off new sheets and apologizing for the inconvenience. With any luck, she'd get the curtains open and Von Brecht in front of the window. Clint would take the shot and they'd be done for the night. Of course, if that wasn't possible, Natasha would be able to help him out by giving him Von Brecht's location in the room, or she'd handle it herself. The biggest issue would be getting Natasha out of the room if she was the one to do it. Von Brecht's guards wouldn't take kindly to it. So they were hoping everything would go according to plan and then they'd be on a plane headed back to the US.
Clint left the safe house twenty minutes before Natasha did to allow himself time to be in position before she arrived. He was lying on the roof across from the hotel with a perfect angle on Von Brecht's room when he heard Coulson's voice, "Here we go."
A few moments later, Natasha appeared on the street and sauntered into the hotel as if she owned the place. She'd belted a trench coat around herself to disguise her uniform and would soon be slipping into the supply closet for an extra maid's uniform.
Clint watched through his scope as she reentered the lobby as a maid, pushing a cart of linens into the elevator. No one questioned her. He swung his scope up and focused on the elevator doors on floor six, where Von Brecht was. Natasha emerged right on schedule. So far things we're going exactly as planned.
"I've lost visual on Widow," Clint said into the comms, keeping his breathing even. He refused to let the panic threatening to overwhelm him succeed. Natasha could take care of herself and Clint would only give her a reason to end things if he started treating her differently in the field.
Natasha knocked on the door of the hotel room, calling sweetly, "Housekeeping."
"I thought you already came," Von Brecht said from the other side of the door.
Natasha gave the peephole a smile, "We're very sorry about this but it seems that some of the laundry piles got mixed up and there's a chance that old sheets ended up on the beds. We're making sure everyone gets a new set of sheets."
Von Brecht opened the door slowly and gestured for Natasha to come in.
Natasha lifted the stack of linens off the cart and stepped into the suite, "I'm very sorry for the inconvenience."
Von Brecht watched as she began to strip the bed of its sheets, "It's no problem."
Natasha remade the bed as quickly and perfectly as she could (it helped that with the Red Room her room and bed were required to be spotless). She stood with a smile at Von Brecht, "Is there anything else I can help you with?"
Von Brecht shook her head while Natasha gathered up the old sheets and started to leave. She froze as she wandered through the living room area, "Excuse me ma'am, but I noticed you have your curtains closed."
"Yes," the woman replied. "What's your point?"
"I just know this room has a wonderful view, and I've heard there's a chance of fireworks tonight…" Natasha said, stepping over to the window. "Let me just get these opened for you so you can see it!"
Von Brecht stepped forward, reaching out a hand as Natasha pulled the curtains open, stepping aside and hurrying to pick up the sheets.
She had just bent over, watching front he corner of her eye as Von Brecht went to close the curtains, when the window shattered, sending glass raining down into the room. Von Brecht stumbled backwards and fell as the bullet pierced her skull.
Natasha let out a scream as a show to the guards who came rushing forward. A moment later, they had both fallen with precise shots through the heart.
"Tell me when someone comes to investigate," Natasha ordered as she slid over to the table littered with papers.
"What are you doing?" Clint asked.
"Seeing if I can't get some information as to what exactly her plan was here," Natasha explained. The papers shifted beneath her fingers, spreading apart and revealing page after page of neat handwriting.
"They're in the elevator," Clint informed her.
Natasha hummed to herself as she continued searching, hoping to see something that she could decipher now. There! Scribbled on the corner of a piece of paper: a date and a location. She folded the papers and tucked them into her catsuit, stripping off her uniform and darting out of the room into the hallway. She was lurking behind a potted plant next to the elevator when the doors opened and a security guard emerged, eyeing the abandoned maid's cart and open door suspiciously.
He hurried down the hall, allowing Natasha to slip into the elevator. She was downstairs and headed out the backdoor less than two minutes later.
Clint was collapsing his rifle back into its case and headed down from the roof as soon as she'd cleared the building.
"We've got a problem," Natasha told Clint and Phil.
"Is Von Brecht out?" Phil demanded.
"Von Brecht is down," Natasha replied. "Bullet to the head is pretty effective, nice shot Barton."
"Then what's the problem?" Clint asked, holding his breath and hoping she was okay. Maybe he should have stayed in position a while longer.
"The papers in Von Brecht's suite had a date and place written down," Natasha explained. "I think whatever she had planned is happening tonight. I have a feeling she knew we were coming and let us kill her so that her plan could go off without a hitch."
"What's the location?" Phil said.
"An office building about thirty minutes from us. Whatever it is starts in fifteen minutes," Natasha answered quickly.
"How sure are you about this?" Phil said.
"It's worth looking at, and I have a feeling that we need to be there," Natasha stated.
Clint had reached the rendezvous point and could see Natasha approaching from around the corner. She hurried over to him with a determined look in her eyes.
"Go," Phil finally said. "But keep in touch with me. Let me know when you get there."
Natasha recited the address into the comms before turning to Clint. He gave her a nod and she took off running through the streets, Clint a step behind her.
At first glance, the office building looked inconspicuous. It was only because she was looking for something odd that Natasha saw them. There was a group of people crowded into one of the offices. To a casual observer, it would seem like shadows or maybe a night meeting, but Natasha knew something was wrong.
"There," she whispered pointing out the window to Clint.
"I see them."
"Coulson," Natasha called over comms. "We're here. There's a group of people in an office that don't look like they belong."
"You're clear to go in, but be careful, we don't know who or what is inside," Phil warned.
"Copy," Clint said. He turned to Natasha, "How do you want to play this?"
"We stick together," Natasha said. "We'll go in the front door and work our way up. Ideally, we'd sweep each floor but I think we need to stop whatever is happening there."
Clint nodded in agreement, "Sounds good to me. I'm going to leave the rifle out here, it's too cumbersome to be any good inside."
"Shall we?" Natasha asked him after he'd set the case down behind a dumpster.
"Yes we shall," he replied with a savage grin.
The two assassins crept into the building, exchanging looks when the found the front doors unlocked and unalarmed. There was definitely something shady going on, who left their office building unlocked when no one was there?"
A leg stuck out from behind the security desk in the lobby. Natasha surveyed the room while Clint bent to check the man they found there. He stood up and shook his head. Dead.
It wasn't all that surprising that the security guard had been taken out. Von Brecht and her ilk were known for being brutally efficient in reducing witnesses. It was how they'd survived this long.
Natasha led the way over to the staircase, not wanting to risk getting trapped in the elevator.
"This is too easy," Clint breathed as they crept up the stairs, approaching the fourth floor. At every level they'd stopped and listened for movement on the other side of the door, hearing nothing so far.
Natasha nodded in agreement, had the group really come without extra security? Or was it all outside the office they used?
Four floors later, the assassins came to a stop, each assessing the mental map of the facility they'd come up with from the ground and the time they'd spent inside of it. The floor sounded silent from the stairwell.
Clint held up his hand and counted down from three, stepping through the door when he reached zero, trusting Natasha to follow his lead. She swung out of the stairwell behind him, gun raised to point down the hallway. He held an arrow loosely on the string of his bow.
Creeping down the hall, they encountered no resistance. There were no guards posted outside of the room and the door had no windows, making it impossible for the office's mysterious occupants to know what lurked outside.
Clint backed away down the hall, followed by Natasha. They ducked into an open office, making sure to keep out of view of the open doorway.
"We're in," Clint told Phil, tapping on the earpiece he wore. "We're about to head into the office. No sign of any guards, but we know they've got at least one guy competent with a gun. The security guard is dead."
"Good luck agents," Phil told them.
Natasha took the lead this time, walking silent as a cat down the hallway. She stopped outside the office door and checked to make sure Clint was with her. Without preamble, Natasha pushed the door open and brought her gun up, flanked by Clint. They stepped into the office, wearing identical smirks at the shocked look on the faces of those inside.
"Now what possible reason could you fine gentlemen have to be here right now?" Clint asked.
"Who the hell are you?" one of the men demanded.
"I'm the guy who's gonna put an arrow through your heart if you don't start answering my questions," Clint threatened. "Let me ask again, why are you here?"
"You can't stop us," the man challenged. "We've already got most of the files downloaded and then it's only a matter of time before we've get them up on every website. It'll be chaos."
Natasha shook her head, "Sorry, but that doesn't work so well for us. So how about you guys come with us and we take that flash drive you've got. No one needs to get hurt."
"We're not the ones who will be getting hurt," the man threatened. He looked at the young man sitting at the computer, typing furiously. The man turned to the leader and nodded once.
Before Natasha or Clint could react, the leader was screaming "NOW!" and a host of armed men were piling into the hallway. While the group was distracted by their believed victory, Natasha lunged forward and ripped the flash drive out of the computer, she shoved it into the pouch on her belt and spun to face the threat.
"We might need some help here," Clint muttered into the comms.
Phil's voice was panicked when he replied, "What's happening?"
"We underestimated their number. We've got about seventy-five guys between us and the exit."
"I'm scrambling a team now," Phil replied.
Natasha pulled out her second gun and turned back to the men in the room, "See, I was going to let you all walk away, but not anymore."
She fired six rounds before the men reacted, each killing the man it had been sent at.
The young man at the computer had managed to duck behind the desk when she raised her gun.
A moment later, one of the men outside the door had pulled out a grenade and thrown it into the office.
Clint knocked Natasha out of the room and covered her as the explosion destroyed the interior.
"What was that?" Phil demanded.
"Grenade," Clint wheezed out.
Natasha shoved him off of her and sprang to her feet, sending two men to the ground with well-placed bullets. She holstered her guns and ran towards the approaching men, throwing herself at one of them furiously. She slammed a kick into his ribs. The air rushed out of the man and he lowered his gun reflexively. Natasha had ducked closer and jammed her fist against his nose, snapping it and sending the man tumbling to the ground unconscious.
She ducked under the man who approached her swinging. Natasha kicked his legs out from under him, grabbing onto his shoulder as he fell and pulling him towards her as a SHIELD. The other men froze for a moment, unsure if they were supposed to attack their comrade or let the woman go. A moment later, Natasha sank her widow's bit into his neck, bringing the man to the ground. Before his companions could react. She'd vaulted herself over the falling man and into the crowd of soldiers.
Her widow's bites brought down five more guards before a startled shout drew her attention away from her targets and over to where Clint was dealing with the other half. She could see that he was holding his own, though there was a group in the back working furiously at something.
"Eyes," Clint commanded as he loosed his next arrow.
Natasha obediently dropped her head, shielding her eyes from the bright flash of light that exploded from the weapon. The others in the room weren't so fortunate as the smoke and light blinded them, causing some to choke.
Stepping backwards, Natasha extracted herself from the group and moved to stand back to back with her partner. When the smoke cleared, they were both firing into the army coming at them from both sides.
"We need a better position," Natasha told Clint, watching as he downed another man before turning back to her targets.
"I'm on it," Clint said. "Cover me?"
Natasha stepped in front of Clint as he ducked away to kneel beside the closed door behind them. She withdrew her second gun and continued working to thin out the group. She knew that she wasn't making nearly enough progress as the men began to creep ever closer to her position. She couldn't hold them back forever.
"Hawkeye," she warned.
"Got it!" Clint told her, spinning and sending an exploding arrow into the hallway while he dragged Natasha into the now open conference room. They fell to the ground as the explosion triggered, sending waves of heat through the room. Natasha kicked out and managed to push the door closed with her leg. Her ears were ringing as she sat up to look at Clint.
"That'll give us a few minutes," he said shakily. Clint blinked several times, shaking his head. He was as bad or worse than Natasha was after the two explosions.
"We need backup," Natasha stated.
Clint nodded in agreement and raised his hand to his comms. He frowned when the line seemed unresponsive, "Coulson, come in."
The line remained silent. Natasha sent Clint a worried glance as she reloaded her guns. It was unlike Coulson to not answer them.
"Coulson, please respond, we need backup here ASAP," Clint said clearly. He waited only a minute before cursing and turning to Natasha. "Tell me if you hear anything through your earpiece."
Natasha nodded mutely, unsure what he was planning to do.
"Coulson, Hawkeye and Black Widow requesting extraction from hostiles. We are in need of backup, repeat, we need backup," Clint said once again.
Natasha's eyes widened as she realized she'd heard none of his pleas through the comms. Instead, the line had remained dormant. She shook her head at him, frowning. Now what? They had no way of notifying Phil and requesting help…
Clint closed his eyes and took a deep breath for a moment, "The explosion must have damaged the ear pieces. The techs told me they were delicate…"
Natasha frowned harder, a manufacturing issue like that could easily lead to someone dying out in the field. Explosions were common enough that their comms needed to be able to withstand them.
"We're gonna have to fight our way out of here," Clint said, eyes wide.
Natasha nodded, "Help me flip the table."
Together, the two assassins turned the large table in the conference room on its side. When they heard the soldiers approaching the door, they simply pushed the chairs away before ducking behind the table.
The door flew into the room as one of the larger guards slammed himself into it, not realizing it had been unlocked and would have probably broken up for anyone who managed to hit the door handle just right.
Clint sent a bullet whizzing towards the man, answering Natasha's questioning gaze with a shrug. He was running out of arrows, so it was time to make the switch.
The next few minutes involved exchanging bursts of gunfire against the men trying to flood into the room. So far, Natasha and Clint had managed to repel every attack, killing or wounding most of the people trying to enter their commandeered conference room. The table was quickly chipped and pitted from the hail of bullets slamming into it.
Clint knew it was only a matter of time before the men wised up and threw something inside the room, turning to run as the bomb went off. He just hoped that they'd be able to last long enough for Coulson to figure out something was wrong and send them some help. Or at least until they were given an opportunity to escape. Clint hoped they'd make it out alive.
Natasha hissed a bullet whizzed past her face, nearly touching her cheek. Clint wasn't surprised to see a feral gleam in her eyes as she returned the attack with renewed vigor.
It was only moments after Natasha's attack that the men retreated from the doorway, leaving a sentry of sorts to stand guard outside the room and monitor the assassins.
Clint and Natasha sank down behind the table, both breathing hard and resting their backs against the table. They were tense as they listened for any sign of the fight beginning again.
"How many do we have left?" Natasha breathed.
Clint shrugged, "Too many probably."
"Well we fucked this up," Natasha replied.
Clint chuckled, "To be fair, we didn't have time to do it right. And anyway, what did we expect with a Council assigned mission. Honestly, I'm surprised things went so well until now."
Natasha couldn't help but smile slightly in return, he had a point.
"Hopefully," Clint continued. "Phil heard the explosion and realized we were in trouble when the comms went dead. He should be here with backup soon."
"Do you think it's working again?" Natasha asked hopefully.
Clint shook his head, "If it were we'd have Phil screaming at us and demanding why we hadn't answered him the first eight thousand times."
The two assassins sank into their own thoughts, waiting for the next round to begin.
Clint found himself reminiscing about the first days of this mission, when they were happy and in love. The mission seemed easy enough and they were able to enjoy being together. God how he missed those days… But his heart clenched as he realized that this might be the mission he or Natasha died on. He didn't want to live without her, so it wasn't an option for that to happen on this mission.
Natasha sat in silence, thinking about how to get out of this situation. If it was just her, she'd offer herself as a prisoner and then take them out when she had a chance. With Barton along, it was too risky. They could easily be separated and/or used against each other. She just wanted to get out of this. She didn't want to die yet, she still had so much red to wipe out.
Soft rustling alerted the assassins to the approaching men.
They both stood, turning to watch the door over the table edge. Each of them intended to be the first to fire, as soon as someone showed up in their line of sight.
A second later, dozens of guards came pouring towards the doorway only to find themselves met by a bullets and arrows. As the enemy began to fire back, Clint turned slightly and caught Natasha's eye. She raised an eyebrow at him in question, never taking her eyes fully from the door as she shot.
Clint's arrows flew unerringly as he spoke, "You know, we've never been on a proper date. Like dinner and a movie…"
Natasha rolled her eyes, "You're bringing this up now?"
Clint shrugged, "If not now, then when?"
She didn't have an answer for him.
"So my question is, if we survive this, will you go on a date with me Tasha?" he asked.
Natasha rolled her eyes, refusing to allow her smile out, "Sure Barton. If we survive this I'll go on a date with you."
Clint grinned despite her patronizing tone. He'd take what he could get.
Without a conscious decision, Natasha found herself fighting to escape even harder than before. She wanted that date. She wanted a chance to have a thousand dates with Clint, to see what would happen years down the road, to really get to know the man fighting beside her and prove herself worthy of his trust. But first, they had to survive this.
Soon enough, the attack began to dwindle and Natasha turned to face Clint, "We can't stay in here forever."
Clint nodded, "No, but we have a tactical advantage from in here."
"We also have an advantage out there," Natasha argued. "They didn't leave a guard this time… And we've done serious damage in demolishing their force."
Clint considered her words before nodding slowly, "Okay, but we need to be strategic about this."
A few hurried whispers later, the assassins rose from behind the table and crept to the doorway. Natasha met Clint's gaze evenly before nodding once, twice, three times. The assassins stepped around the doorframe and began firing at the men still standing. They'd each wiped out half of the men remaining on the two sides of the hall when the return fire began.
Ducking back inside until the bullets stopped as the men realized they had just injured themselves, shooting bullets down a hallway. Then they were popping back out and finishing off the job. It was simple enough now that the men had realized they were in trouble. When the last body dropped, Clint turned to Natasha, eyes demanding if she was okay. She nodded once, asking him the same question and accepting his tight nod in response.
Clint walked towards the bodies and bent over to pick up a cell phone. He dialed Coulson's number from memory, quickly entering the code to override the security on the phone and allow his call through.
Natasha had stepped slightly back towards the conference room, surveying the bodies around her for anything out of the ordinary. Satisfied, she took a few steps towards Clint, freezing momentarily as she saw a guard force himself up, one hand holding a gun, the other clutching the bullet wound in his chest. He didn't have long, but he had long enough.
Thoughtless, reacting on instinct alone, Natasha dove forward, driving her body into Clint and bringing him to the ground as the shot rang out. The shooter collapsed, dead but smiling.
Natasha couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. Choking on air, she pressed her hands to her stomach, just below her rib cage. Her fingers came away wet and slippery with the red blood leaking from her.
"Natasha?" Clint asked. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of blood on her fingers.
"Natasha!" his tone was more frantic this time, Natasha decided.
She tried to keep her eyes open, focused on his blue-gray eyes, but they wouldn't cooperate. She just wanted to go back to New York and have that date. She hadn't intended to get shot in the stomach before doing that…
Why couldn't she breathe?
Clint's calls grew louder and more desperate.
Natasha fell into blackness.
AN: Thanks for reading! Super sorry about that ending, let me just say we have a ways to go in this story still :) Please leave a review if you feel like it! Again, no chapter tomorrow but definitely one on Wednesday. I hope everyone is enjoying the Age of Ultron press tour like I am.
Preview of Next Chapter: Clint shook his head, "God, Phil, I shouldn't be mad at her. She saved my fucking life. But that's just it, she stepped in front of a goddamn bullet for me and I don't know why!"
"Would you have taken the bullet for her?" Phil asked quietly. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer, but he knew Clint needed to hear it.
"Yes."