Sleep had come easy and fast, but the nightmares were always faster.

Clint was the first to fall into its trap, he usually was the heavier sleeper on most occasions. Maybe it was the cheese before bed, you know, if you believed in that kind of cliché. Or maybe it was his horrific blood-stained past. Whatever the reasoning it was never pleasant, and tonight's especially was nice, raw and homey.

Clint arrived home to his trailer that he shared with his much older brother Barney, a fresh 17-year-old man, after visiting the local market. The circus master Trickshot rarely let them off grounds except if they had performed exceptionally well in that month's show. And Clint was the star of every showcase, never missing a target and pleasing the audience beyond belief. Even to the extent that he was hired out by Trickshot to the highest bidder… and not always to women.

Clint clutched the roses in his hand, sweat making his usually steady hands clammy and unsteady. Tonight was the night he was going to ask his girlfriend Bobbi to leave the circus with him. She was a thin 17 year old woman, a fantastic acrobat, and the only love that Clint had known. Her choppy blonde hair, squished nose, big eyes and red cheeks made her an attraction to the men of the circus, and when she accepted Clints proposal to become his girlfriend he was overjoyed. He felt like the luckiest man alive at that time. They had fantasised together, creating stories of the future, far away from the circus that Clint hated. She was the only one he confided in, his only friend. Her parents were dead and so was his, they had most things in common, and they both hated Clint's asshole brother Barney who loved to lay into Clint at least twice a week.

He took in a deep breathe and yanked open the rusted door, a huge smile plastered on his face expecting to see his love…

Instead to be confronted with his brother screwing his girlfriend, balls deep inside her.

A pathetic fight ensued, upon which Clints 29-year-old brother had dominated him after Clint threw the first punch (not helping Clints corner was that Barney was also the Circuses strong man) and he had pinned him down laughing. Clint wheezed, feeling the knowing pain of broken ribs and a potentially collapsed lung.

"Did you think I would seriously pick you Clint?" Bobbi crooned in his ear, a complete reversal of her previously sweet nature "You're NOTHING. You'll die ALONE. Why would I pick you when I can have the upgraded version?" she stood and passionately made out with Barney. Before Clint could respond and come around from his initial shock of the situation and the pure betrayal of the only person he cared about, the trailer door was slammed open and Clint was dragged down the steps and thrown into the centre of the trailer park.

Clint wearily opened his eyes to be met with that of Trickshots and surrounding him was his previous circus family.

"Did you think I would let you leave my archer? Just let you go?" Trickshot laughed heavily, kicking Clint square in the face. He gagged as a broken tooth attempted to make its way down his windpipe.

"You'll never leave here. Never"

And then Barney shot his brother.

"Clint!" Natasha hissed at her partner, clutching his shoulders tightly. She had been restlessly woken up at 3am by her partners shuddering and whimpering, and she could feel the bed sheets becoming increasingly clammier. She instantly registered it was a nightmare and attempted to let him ride it out by himself by creating as much distance as possible between her and her partner. Sometimes it was short and there was no point waking him, the potentially of creating a cranky archer for waking him unnecessarily was high, but some of his nightmares were long and horrific and scarring and tonight's one fit into all 3 categories.

So, she had grabbed his shoulders without thinking, maybe it was her own sleep haziness clouding her judgement, or the need to touch him to instil comfort, but she had firmly grabbed him and lightly shook. Hissing his name over and over.

Blue eyes met green and for an instant there was calm mixed with a sleepy confusion, before Natasha was thrown roughly to the hard wooden ground and pinned underneath her partner, who currently was clutching a knife pointed into her abdomen with crazed dark eyes.

She instantly stopped struggling and attempted to make her body language as less threatening as possible, eyes wide, palms open, muscles relaxed. Not even daring to breathe as she let him ride it out.

Minutes felt like hours, and as his hand began to shake from the tension of holding such a tense and awkward position, he began to register his surroundings. Polished wooden flooring, not wet mud, green eyes piercing into his, not brown, cool air, not sticky, and a knife clutched in his hand.

His eyes widened as recognition flooded him, and he dropped the knife as if it was a red-hot poker. Clint let out a huge breath of air as he quickly sat up into a sitting position, hands deep into his messy hair and lightly trembling.

Natasha slowly began to sit upright, still allowing herself to project an aura of vulnerability even if it went against her base instincts. Slowly she crawled to kneel in front of the pained archer, searching his face for any sign of change.

"What is your name" She asked him firmly after a few seconds had passed, he looked up in disbelief and annoyance;

"I'm not stupid Nat, I know who…"

"Name."

"Clint. Barton" he ground out in frustrated bursts.

"Where are you right now Clint?" She asks lazily, as if it was the last thing on her mind, while beginning to draw one hand from his hair

"Seriously we do not have to do this" he scoffed, attempting to re-take his hand, but she held firmly on and began tracing small circles in it

"Yes. We do. It was bad again Clint" she looked into his deep troubled eyes with concern, and after a few convincing seconds his resolve weakened

"New Mexico, crazy expensive hotel, and I am with you… Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, on a special mission to take down another bad guy" he laughed with no humour "Do I pass?"

"Depends" she shrugged while continuing her hand circles "Are you feeling particularly stabby?"

He looked between the knife and his partner with shame on his face "Nat…I'm so sorry…"

She shook her head firmly, clasping both of her hands on both sides of his face forcing him to look at her "Not your fault"

"but…"

"NOT. Your. Fault" she growled, and he nodded. After a few more moments sitting on the hard wood, he stood and offered her his hand, which she gratefully took. Truth be told the cold wood had began to hurt her knees and her body was grateful when she lay once again in the duck feather bed. He joined her seconds later, spooning her and lazily lying an arm over her waist. Usually, Natasha attempted to keep some type of distance with her partner while they slept, especially as she became more hyperaware of her feelings. However tonight she knew that he needed her.

"Thank you" he whispered into her shoulder like the mind reader he was, and she smiled before closing her eyes once again and succumbing to the darkness. Both of their bodies relaxing.

He brushed the newly formed bruise on her back and a deep frown set into his face whilst he began zipping her dress upwards, silent guilt beginning to eat away at her. Natasha felt him stiffen and glanced over her shoulder at him questioningly;

"Again, I'm sorry about that"

His partner shrugged, with her back facing him and face turned towards the door once again. She clutched her curls in one hand to create a hairless zip hazard as he fastened her up into tonight's outfit. A skin-tight blue dress that had taken some wiggling into, plain except for low in the back and the front. Accompanied with Swarovski crystal heels, matching purse and bracelet, ridiculously large diamond necklace, heavy makeup, red lips, and signature red curls. "I've had worse, it doesn't hurt"

"I know" he sighed, his memories momentarily running through numerous gunshots, stabbings, explosions… the list goes on. But the knowledge he had marked her creamy skin had troubled him. "Do you have your weapons?"

She patted her inner thigh knowingly, a toothy grin beginning to spread on her face. The dress was too tight for a gun, but her long trusty blade was stashed into her inner thigh, both heels of her shoes held blades, her bracelet let off an electric shock, and one of her diamonds in her necklace had a removable capsule of poison.

"Good girl" he muttered as he pulled her in for a hug; "earpiece" he reminded her as he helped fit it so that it would not be seen;

"Okay what are you, my boyfriend?" she laughed and rolled her eyes as the sentence slipped out, and she momentarily froze as she gauged his reaction, fearful that she had overstepped

He returned her laugher heartly, holding onto her from a small distance, his smile lightly crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Just want to make sure you're as ready as you can be. You know, no one else has completed this mission. It won't be a cakewalk"

"But no one is us Hawkeye" she winked as she gathered the last of her things and transformed into the lethal seductress, hips swaying and she sashayed out the room, out of the hotel and into a private car that was awaiting her. Clint would follow once she had reported to be in the exclusive gala and observe from a far for the time being. His presence this evening was not needed, but he had a backup suit packed just in case things were not going as peachy as they hoped. Both partners had surveyed the gala hall earlier that morning, undercover as tourists, and had identified the layout, exits, blind spots and set up cameras in high priority areas. Overall, on a mission basis, they were both very prepared, yet Clint couldn't shake the feeling something was going to happen. And soon.

Hastily he packed Sheila, his arrows, backup knives, and his suit before heading out after his partner.

Natasha stepped a foot out of her private car, stiletto gleaming in the light, and cleverly used her clutch to cover any flashing underwear as she stepped out whilst simultaneously using her chauffeur's hand as leverage to lift her out of the leather seats. She quickly glanced around at the small, carpeted entrance to the giant historic building and noticed every males gaze on her in lust, and every females in disgust. She set her red lips into a breathless grin as she thanked her driver before making her entrance into the grand hall. No target yet.

She slowly strode to the bar upon entrance, confidence in her steps, as she knew that the area would give her the widest view of the room without giving away her presence to unwanted visitors. And hell she really wanted a drink. She was going to need it for dealing with Trapp. These up-close-and-personal missions really made her feel objectified and dirty, reminded her too much of her past, but she knew it was the easiest way of extracting information.

The bar was crowded but like Moses, she parted the crowd and sat gracefully on the centre stool, nodding her thanks to her loyal slavering dogs. Flagging down the waiter she desperately wanted to order a vodka on the rocks, but she knew her persona was not like that, so she ordered a dainty 24K gold leaf gin in a martini glass. She resisted a gag as the cool liquid dropped down her throat. Fuck she hated gin.

Two taps then three sounded on her earpiece, a common sound to let her know that her partner was positioned and ready in case trouble arose. She scratched a spot behind her ear, the signal to let him know that she copied, before her eyes began roaming the room under her long thick eyelashes.

Many important businessmen and women littered the dance floor, and not necessarily from New Mexico but from around the world. Natasha was impressed that a few princesses had even shown, their names long forgot. If they were not a target, they were not a priority to Natasha's mind.

30 minutes passed uneventfully, other than the constant harassment from sleezy men who attempted to order the Black Widow to dance with them, all of which she declined in a polite manner. But politeness was running thin.

And then suddenly the doors opened, and she could tell by the way everyone's head turned that the main guest of the evening had arrived, Soleman Trapp himself surrounded by half a dozen guards and at least as many hired women.

"Our main man" Clint whispered quietly "What a poser"

He, like she had, made a bee-line for the bar and his entourage followed behind in step. Unlike others averting their eyes out of politeness when he walked near, Natasha followed his eyes with her own, her teeth nibbling on her lower plump lip and her eyes lightly hooded as she gave him 'fuck me' eyes. One of the black widow's signature moves to lure her prey into her web,

He noticed her immediately, of course how could he not? A woman strong enough to not look away, yet to submit to his masculinity, looking at him as if he had turned water into wine and solved world hunger. Men do love a stroke of the ego.

Amongst other things She grumbled internally, although she hoped it wouldn't get that far. At least not tonight.

"Your name?" he slid in the chair next to her, snapping his fingers at the poor waiter, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Charlotte Delores Mr Trapp, it's…an honour to meet a man like yourself" she breathlessly replied, inching slowly closer showing more of her chest. Something he didn't bother covering up, even being surrounded by his crowd of women who were chatting lowly amongst themselves.

"Married" he nodded at her expensive band on her left hand as he grabbed his whisky and took a long drink, never breaking eye contact.

"Yes sir" she played on the sir like a schoolgirl "My husband, Charles Delores, is scheduled to meet you in a few days' time to discuss a business deal. But I do not venture to these events for business Mr Trapp. I venture for…pleasure" she almost moaned the last word, keeping his eyes trained on her. She was hypnotising him with her seduction, and he was falling neatly into the trap created. Ha. Trap. She internally cursed, damn Clint and his poor choice of humour.

"Got him nice and tight in your web Widow" Clint chuckled down comms "What a perv"

That earned her a chuckle and a smirk from the target, which she was positive he thought was his 'come to bed' face. She resisted the urge to gag once again but she responded in a giggle, which wholeheartedly was meant for Clint's previous comment in her ear.

The rest of the evening Trapp refused to leave her side, even accompanying her to the outside grounds (adding on his women and bodyguards) which irritated Natasha beyond belief as she attempted to check in with her partner. So far there was no interesting information, other than Trapp was fascinated with red heads and was the most sex crazed freak she had ever encountered. Every second conversation turned sexualised, almost to the point of disturbing, and when the pair had danced, he had made sure that his leg was brushing her inner thigh (Almost too close to her positioned blade) and she was feeling his constant erection bumping her leg. Surely that shouldn't be healthy right?

After a particularly sore grab of her ass, upon which he wasn't ashamed to use nails, she had enough.

"Nat do you want me to come in yet?" Clint strained down her earpiece, and she flipped her hair over her shoulders as she was led away from the dance floor, their signal for 'Stay put". He sighed heavily, very unhappy with the situation.

"Well Mr Trapp, thank you EVER so much for possibly the best evening of my life" she fake gushed to the perverted businessman "But I'm sure my husband will be phoning me soon to see how I am, and I have stayed out far too long" she smiled, hopefully warmly, at the creep.

"Your husband is not with you?" he questioned, smirking down at her. She momentarily froze. Fuck.

"I'm right here asshole" Clint hissed into her ear, and she had to fight a smirk.

"Ah no sir, he had some business in LA but will be joining me momentarily" she beamed at him "He is SUCH a hard worker, so its not unusual for us to be separated for a few evenings"

"WELL in that case Charlotte" he lingered on her name "I cannot allow a friend of mine to stay alone in New Mexico, especially one so… ravishing" he looked her over for the thousandth time this evening, lingering on her breasts. She was sure her fangirl expression was beginning to crack.

"On my dead body Nat" Cint growled in her ear, clearly having lost his temper "You won't come out of there alive!"

She flicked her hair again, eyes slightly narrowing; "No sir you don't have to…" she was beginning to panic internally, and subconsciously her eyes began looking for escape routes.

"NONSENCE. Ryan come take Miss Charlotte to our private housing, where she will be most comfortable for the evening" he began offering her arm to his main bodyguard, RYAN was easily 6"5 and looked like he had been on steroids as a baby. Natasha sized him up as he stepped towards her. With her petite 5"5 frame he easily towered over her.

"I need to call my husband first sir!" she garbled as an excuse "and I forgot my mobile, what a silly girl I am" she breathlessly laughed, pulling her arm from both men's.

"Here. You can use mine" Trapp passed the phone onto her, and she froze upon receiving. His smile was growing almost demented, like one small wrong move and he might blow her up. Or the building. Or the continent they stood on. He truly was crazy.

Natasha stared at the phone trying to think of a plan and a number as her earpiece began buzzing with intense chatter from one individual;

"Nat this has gone far enough, pull the plug now! This guys crazy, get away from him and I'll blow his head off! This is the last time I let you go in alone, Fury can KISS MY ASS!" Clint all but screamed and she a wince.

She quickly dialled a number she knew well, and one that she knew constantly changed. Three rings later and a well-spoken man answered, clearly slightly irritated to have been disturbed from whatever task they may have been previously undertaking "Hello?"

"Charles darling!" Natasha all but sang into the phone to her handler "I know you were worried about me staying in New Mexico alone as you conducted your business in LA. But I appear to have bumped into your business friend Mr Soleman Trapp!" she laughed breezily, even as her insides began to tighten from anxiety. The line was quiet as the handler listened intently.

"Anyway, our dear Mr Trapp has invited me to stay at one of his private lodgings for the night, to ensure I stay safe for your arrival tomorrow" she highlighted to her partner via comms, her handler as well as Trapp himself "I'm unaware of what part of the city it is in, but I'm sure I will still be able to meet you at the airport for 12pm just as promised" she all but sang into the phone. It gave her peace of mind to know that both handler and partner will have some knowledge of where she was going. Not much, but Shield thrived on minimal information.

"Anyway darling, I love you and I shall see you tomorrow! Oh, and Charles, remember to have the trash emptied before departing. Goodbye!" and she slammed her finger on the button almost cracking the screen.

She handed the phone back to Trapp, a fake smile plastered on her face and his smirk deepened;

"Lets head home, Mrs Delores" he stated as if he got pleasure from knowing she was a 'married' woman, and Natasha internally screamed as her body worked with the target, gripping his offering forearm in a girlish swoon and heading out the back of the gala, entourage in tow.

Now she understood why other agents had failed so quickly.

Empty the trash, dispose of the phone Clint mused to himself as he picked up his gear from his lookout spot and began tracking where Trapp, his croons and Natasha had left. No way in hell was he returning to the hotel alone, unable to watch her back. He was pissed at the predicament he was in, and even more angry that there was nothing he could do about it. She was entirely vulnerable in that house with who-knows how many bad guys who could inflict all sorts of pains on her. Emotionally and physically. He was pissed at Phil for listening in and doing nothing, not even sending evac or other agents to support, he was pissed at Fury for giving her the stupid fucking assignment, and he was pissed at Natasha for going along with it, even though they both knew it was better for her safety and completion of the mission. He hated it. And the pit in his stomach deepened.