Wow, only one day of this story up and already three people have shown interest in it. I'd better let you get to the story, then...
My ledger is dripping with red," her voice cuts through his thoughts. "Kill me now, before it becomes an unstoppable flood."
Clint shakes his head, blinking to rid his eyes of what might possibly have been the beginnings of tears. He can't show weakness, not knowing so little about her. And yet… he knows what he is going to do as he offers her not an arrow between the eyes, but an invitation. "I'm not gonna do that, Widow. Killing you would be an easy way out, a gift. I'm giving you something else. I'm giving you a chance."
He sees no hint of what is spinning through her mind as she crosses her arms, looking at him with a cold gaze. But when she speaks, he hears the suspicion her clear voice conveys. She wants him to hear, wants him to know that she is not some idiotic girl waiting to be betrayed. "What?"
Only now does he notice the incredible sadness in her eyes, sadness that he had missed before, when all she was was a target. Now, she's a possible asset. And Clint is realizing how much she needs a chance. He has decided on a course of action. And Clint is remarkably stubborn when it comes to changing his mind. "Come with me. Back to S.H.I.E.L.D. Wash that red out of your letter without adding more red of your own. Leave the Red Room."
"Why are you doing this?" The Black Widow asks him, tucking a stray strand of red hair behind her ear. Her voice is soft, but still hard and clear.
He looks her straight in the eye, telling her what he has honestly believed ever since he joined S.H.I.E.L.D. "Everyone deserves a second chance."
"Even a merciless Russian assassin to whom killing is as natural as breathing?"
He is surprised by her sarcasm, but finds himself smiling. The sarcasm humanizes her more than he would have guessed. And when he meets her eyes, sadness and pain and so much more are not the only things he sees. He also sees a glint of hope. "Yes," he says. "Even her."
Almost imperceptibly, her demeanor changes. Her body falls into lightning fast motions of preparation as she becomes a whirlwind, pulling items from places Clint would never even think to check and stuffing them into a duffel bag. She has weapons caches everywhere in the seemingly cleared out room, from the air vents to under the carpet. Out of all of the nooks and crannies she has utilized, Clint would have found one cache searching the room by himself. Maybe two, if he was lucky.
She finishes collecting the various objects into the duffel and pulls out a scalpel, the blade sharpened so fine you can hardly see the point.
"If I am to do this, Agent Barton, I will require your assistance," she tells him as she looks carefully at the scalpel, checking it for any rough spots. She finds none. Then she flips the scalpel on its end and holds it out to him. He approaches warily, keeping his eye on the scalpel she still clutches, until she hands it to him.
"The Red Room had a… kill switch, I suppose you could say, implanted in me. If I don't return to the checkpoints on time or they know I've gone rogue, they will activate it and I'll get a hole blown in my sternum. But they'll also blow it if the device is taken out."
He nods. "So I have to get it out and… what… throw it into the air vent or something?"
She gives him a wry smile. "The blast would still be too intense. They created it so that, in the event that I did get it taken out, everyone within a hundred meters would be killed, too. And I am supposed to get back to the checkpoint soon, so it will blow in ten minutes regardless."
"So… what are we going to do?"
She smiles.
"This."
They race on the rooftops side by side, matching each others' steps as the streets pass beneath them. The Widow stops on top of an abandoned warehouse by the waterfront. She halts by a glass skylight, shoving her foot through it.
"Ready?" she asks him.
"You sure you can survive this?" he asks her.
Without a word, she lies down on the warehouse roof, zipping down the top part of her catsuit just enough to expose the area of her sternum. She grabs his hand and places it on the spot where she knows the kill switch is attached. She looks up at him.
"Remember, we've got ten seconds after it's disconnected. Let's hope your hand is as steady as it looks, Agent. Now, do it."
He takes a deep breath, his archer's hands steady as ordered. Without thinking about it, he presses the scalpel into the skin.
The only sound she makes during the entire procedure is a slight gasp when the scalpel goes in. The rest of the time, she is deathly quiet. The first cut he makes is vertical, while the second is horizontal, creating an x. He sees the glint of the tiny bomb's metal, and where it is latched onto the bone. Quickly, he works the scalpel under it. Then he throws the kill switch into the skylight.
The instant it came out, she was already moving. Though her skin is pallid from blood loss, her body shows no sign of the effects she must be experiencing. After all, they both know that in ten seconds, blood loss will be the least of their worries.
Neither one falters as they sprint down the length of the warehouse, Clint carrying the duffel. They leap off of the roof just as the bomb activates, falling into the freezing waters below. The explosion sweeps over the surface as they remain just underwater.
Clint is the first to talk when they drag themselves out of the water. He is shivering, freezing. Aside from the blood loss, she doesn't even look affected. "You need medical attention," he tells her.
She glares at him. "What I need, Barton, is to get to your safe house. Now."
He can tell she is deadly serious.
"They're coming."
He guns the engine of the hotwired car as the Widow reclines next to him. He allows himself to get slightly distracted from driving as he watches her press the edges of the x together, taping over the spot with a roll that comes out of one of her many pouches. Finally, they reach his safe house and hurry inside.
"They'll have every eye in the city watching for me," she says, frowning slightly.
"I'm not worried about the Red Room, Widow. I'm going to call extraction. But how are you so… stoic after being cut into without anaesthesia and bleeding half to death?"
"Agent Barton. Firstly, to answer your question, this is not nearly the first time I have been cut into without anaesthesia. The Red Room believes that if you cannot stand pain, you are not worth their time. Secondly, you do not need to worry about me 'bleeding half to death.' Thirdly, do not ask."
He is about to ask what it is he is not supposed to ask when she pulls the tape off of her wound. The cut is gone. In its place is a thin pink x, fading by the minute.
He watches as the x disappears from existence.
"I'm calling extraction."
Yay! Another chapter. I'm hoping to get the next one up today, as well. How is it?