Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any of its characters. I only own Charlotte Jansen. Any of the storyline that seems familiar, I most likely do not own.

Charlotte POV

My calf hurt like a bitch. I had been driving for hours, trying to get to my safe house. I had switched cars four times in an attempt to shake SHEILD from my trail once more. They were getting more and more used to my bullshit and shenanigans. I knew it wouldn't take them all that long to find me just in a car. But if I could get to my safe house, I'd be home free. I blamed Hawkeye for getting me into this mess. If he hadn't shot me I would've been long gone by now.

"Stupid fucker. Stupid SHIELD." I muttered, getting more and more irritated as time went on.

Finally, I made it to my safe house. I put the car into the barn and limped into the safe house. Not paying attention, I stumbled into the kitchen.

"First aid kit and whiskey where are you?" I mumbled opening cabinets, "Ah-ha!"

Finding everything I needed, I turned around to face the living room. I dropped everything I was holding when I saw who was casually sitting on my couch.

"How the- when did you- what the actual fuck?" was all I could settle on saying as I sputtered out random words.

"Put a tracker on you when we were fighting," Hawkeye said as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

I grabbed my knife from my belt. My crossbow and sniper rifle were both still in the car. The plan was to fix my wound then high tail it out of here.

"You really think you can beat me like that?"

I grit my teeth. He was right. I was injured and fatigued. He was still ready to fight. This was supposed to be my chance to collect myself. But there was no way in hell that I was just going to lay down and take it. Slowly but painfully I got myself into a defensive stance. Hawkeye raised an eyebrow.

"You're actually going to fight me?"

"There's no way in hell that I am going to let you take me down without a fight," I snapped.

Hawkeye gave a half-assed shrug before he got ready. His nonchalance and easy attitude were pissing me off. He was convinced that he would win this fight, and that would give me the advantage. I just had to make sure he didn't hit my calf. I never did get to fix the bandage. All I could do was hope that it would stay long enough for me to win or to die trying.

I waited on the defensive for Hawkeye to make the first move. I wasn't about to tire myself out and lose because of a rookie mistake. Finally, after what felt like hours, he took a swing. I dodged and remained on the defensive as he advanced his attacks. My goal was to avoid as much damage as possible while he tired himself out. I just had to last long enough for him to wear down. He couldn't have gotten that much rest while tracking me. My only real disadvantage was the wound he had managed to create when we had fought earlier. Slowly I started to add in some attacks. His stamina was crazy high. I could feel myself getting tired quickly. Against my better judgment, I moved into the offensive.

Hawkeye saw his opportunity and took it. He swept my legs out from underneath me. I let out a grunt of pain, partially from hitting the ground and partially because he had hit my wounded leg. He straddled me and pinned my arms above my head. I was flushed and furious.

"Get off of me!" I yowled like an angry cat, trying to get his heavy body off of my smaller one.

"Not a chance," Hawkeye denied.

I growled, still trying to get myself free, "You cheated. You attacked an injured person."

"Like you haven't done so before?"

"That was different! That was for a job!"

"And so is this!"

I fell quiet. I had suspicions that SHEILD had been hunting me down so furiously because they wanted to kill me, but this just confirmed it. I pursed my lips.

"Kill me then," I snapped, tired of being pinned down like an animal, "Get it over with."

Hawkeye was quiet. I could feel the rage burning in my eyes. Why wasn't he finishing the job? We were assassins, we always finished the job. We never stopped halfway. It was kill or be killed in the world we were living in.

"Well? Are you too scared to kill me? Come on you asshole! Do it already!"

I was baiting him and I knew it. But I would rather be dead than stuck in the position I was in now. Not only was it degrading, but it also wounded my pride. If only my clients could see me now. This badass assassin pinned to the ground, helpless to get herself free. You didn't exactly see that kind of thing every day. Hawkeye was still contemplating his next move. I was growing impatient. I began to try and wiggle myself out from his grip again. It didn't matter that his grip was like a vice and that every time I move my leg my calf seared in pain.

This was a matter of pride.

"You know you're not going anywhere right?"

His words made me growl in annoyance. He was an assassin, he knew full well what my thought process was.

"I'm going to prove you wrong," I hissed.

"No, you're not."

Before I could let out another pissed and smartassed retort, I felt a pinch in my neck. I felt myself getting woozy.

"Wh-whaat was thha?" I slurred my words, trying to string coherent thoughts together.

"Sleep tight."

Those were the last words that I would hear for quite some time.