I don't claim any knowledge of Russian whatsoever. I leave that to Google translate, so if anyone has a problem with the Russian stuff, don't complain unless you are willing to lend me your translation skills. *prays for a Russian reader to volunteer*

I was going to wait longer to release this chapter, but to be honest, I'm as excited to see the next chapter up just as much as you guys are haha. I hope you are all ready to meet our mystery Widow!

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but the storyline

Oh, you'll find me

Between

The devil and the deep blue sea

And I'm going under

I'm drowning now

Between

The devil and the deep blue sea

Come and save me

Save me

He said nothing. He never did. Words were useless to Natasha; what she wanted and needed was his silent reassurance. At his touch, Natasha shook herself out of her stupor and threw the ear back onto the lap of the body.

"The cops are likely making their way up already." She said in a tight voice, her hard tone betraying her clashing emotions.

"Let's get moving." He said in a low voice. "She couldn't have made it that far."

Natasha nodded silently, steeling her resolve to take a deep breath and straightening up, squaring her shoulders. "She can't have made it out of the city yet."

They quickly made it back to the rooftop, just in time to hear the sound of more voices echoing up the stairwell – the cops had arrived. Clint and Natasha quickly made their way from the crime scene, again by way of rooftop.

"Wait!"

Clint paused as Natasha veered off course and ran back to the rooftop they had been on previously.

"Look!"

He landed beside her, glancing at the large vent sticking up from the roof. It was small, barely noticeable, but the rusty color was definitely recognizable.

Blood.

Natasha squinted closely at it, then gave a frustrated huff. "Not enough for a damn finger print." She scowled. "But enough to gauge the direction she went in."

She pointed in the direction that the blood was smeared. With a quick nod from Clint, they took off in a new direction, all the while on the lookout for another clue.

"We were lucky she got careless." Natasha murmured. "I doubt we will be so lucky again."

Clint inwardly scoffed. She called that careless?! Even he hadn't noticed the clue. Black Widows were such noticed her slowing down again, and drew to a stop. She stood still for a moment, staring off into space distractedly.

"Um, Tash?" He asked, approaching her. "Is there a reason you stopped?" Clint glanced in the direction that she was looking, but saw nothing.

Natasha shook her head. "I don't know I just…" She hesitated, taking a step, and then pausing. "I just got this feeling… down my spine…" Suddenly she narrowed her eyes. "She's watching us!"

Immediately Clint dropped to one knee, spinning around to check their backs. "Get down Tash!" He snapped when he saw that she was still just standing there. "She's a sniper!"

But Natasha did not seem to heed his words. Instead, she pursed her lips and furrowed her brows. "No…" She murmured. "If she had intended to kill us, she would have already pulled the trigger."

Not comforting, Tash. Clint thought in exasperation.

"Then what do you suggest?" He griped as he scanned 360 degrees and saw nothing. "I don't suppose your instincts have a Black Widow radar?"

Natasha continued to look confused. "She has had a shot at us this whole time. Why wouldn't she take it?"

"Maybe she's playing nice?" Clint quipped dryly.

"You did see the pile of meat that was her target, right?" Natasha responded dryly. "No. Black Widows aren't the type to 'play nice', nor do they show mercy. This is not hesitation, it's deliberate."

She turned in a circle, her eyes scanning the rooftops for a shadow, or the glint of a scope. But it was hard to see, now that dusk had fallen. The sun had already set, and the western sky was a rainbow of pastel colors as darkness crept in from the east. It was the perfect moment between day and night, when the light no longer chased away the shadows, and the night was not dark enough to warrant the streetlights.

Then, Clint remembered his last encounter with the girl.

"I just caught us another Black Widow."

The woman on the ground jerked and turned her face upwards to stare at him. He could see the question in her eyes.

Another Black Widow.

Another.

"When I caught her, back in Vienna," Clint began in a low voice, "I told Phil that I had caught another Black Widow."

Natasha gave him an annoyed glance, either annoyed that he had failed to mention this until now, or that he had mentioned her in the presence of an enemy. It was likely both.

"So she knows about me." She muttered.

"She doesn't know what you look like, or your name." Clint said, eyes now scanning the cityscape with the binoculars he kept on his person during missions. "But she has likely guessed what you are by now, yeah."

"Still doesn't explain why she is just watching us." Natasha murmured. "We either take the shot or we leave. It isn't like a Widow to just sit and watch."

"Maybe she is wondering what a Widow is doing working for us dirty Americans." Clint muttered, flicking his binoculars to infrared, now that it was dark enough – thank god for SHIELD gadgets. He could never afford one of these things on his own.

He scanned the buildings.

There!

"Heat signature crouched on the building on our three o'clock, four buildings down." He murmured quietly, careful not to linger his gaze in the direction of their target, lest she figure out that she had been spotted.

Natasha did not immediately look in the direction either, carefully scanning the rooftops in feigned ignorance. "We would never make it over there in time." She muttered as she quickly gauged the distance in a glance.

"We can if we fight dirty." Clint suggested, curling the three fingers he used to draw his bow to convey his message to Natasha.

She gave him a flat look. "Fury said to bring her in alive and whole."

"I'm not maiming her." Clint pouted. "She'll be whole! …Just a different kind of hole." He snickered.

"That was a horrible pun." Natasha deadpanned, sighing in a way that told him that she was contemplating kicking him.

"I'm not letting her get away, Tash." Clint hissed under his breath, carefully scanning the horizon again to keep tabs on the girl's heat signature, noting her positioning and attempting to judge any weak points. "A man's ego can only withstand having his butt kicked by a girl so many times! You were bad enough! My reputation is on the line here!"

Natasha's mouth quirked in that way it always did when she suppressed a smile. "Fine." She sighed. "But nothing risky, okay?"

"You do realize I'm shooting to incapacitate her, right?" He muttered as he stepped behind Natasha to hide his actions from view of their target, carefully sliding his hand behind him to reach his bow. "It's not going to be a minor injury."

"Nothing permanent, okay?" Natasha huffed. "We don't need Fury breathing down our necks again."

"That was one time!" Clint whined as he passed the binoculars to her. "Besides, Budapest was a long time ago!"

"And Fury still holds it over our heads." Natasha pointed out, making the archer mutter unkind words under his breath.

It happened in a split second.

Clint whipped out his bow and knocked an arrow in the same second, Natasha dropped down to the ground just as he fired, the arrow barely clearing the top of her head. Natasha brought the binoculars to her face in the same second and quickly focused them in the direction of their target, watching as the heat signature scrambled up a second too late, and then the body jerked as the arrow impacted.

A pained cry echoed across the rooftops, just barely discernable above the dull noise of the city below them.

"She's down!" Natasha hissed, and Clint was already leaping onto the next building, sheathing his bow as he went. Natasha took a moment to make sure that the figure was not going anywhere, before pocketing the binoculars and jumping down after her partner.

They rooftops blurred by until Natasha found herself catching up to her partner, and then passing him altogether. Suddenly, it felt like she wasn't running fast enough. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest, the pulse echoing in her ears, and for some reason she felt… nervous. She wanted to be the first one to see this girl, this Black Widow, and yet a part of her dreaded the meeting.

She crested the final rooftop, and dropped down onto the concrete. Looking around, she noticed that there was nobody in sight.

"But – how?" Clint hissed as he landed next to her. "I shot her in the thigh! That arrow should have penetrated straight through! She shouldn't be able to walk!"

Natasha gave her partner a sharp look. "Just a 'little hole' huh?"

He gave her a guilty look, and she sighed.

"I know I saw the arrow hit," She muttered. "The girl can't have gone far." Natasha glanced over to the edge of the roof, a sniper rifle leaning against the low wall, blood spattered on the ground next to it.

"There should at least be a blood trail!" Clint growled in frustration.

"We are taught to tear a piece of our clothing and use it to plug the bullet hole before wrapping the wound, in order to avoid leaving a trail." Natasha explained.

Clint growled under his breath. "Stupid Russians."

Natasha chuckled at his frustration as she walked over to the gun, quickly determining the type and make.

"SV-98. Impressive." She murmured, picking up the Russian sniper rifle. "Slightly outdated nowadays, but it is still effective."

"Later, Tash." Clint reminded her. "We got a target to catch."

Natasha put the gun down and nodded, following her partner as he scanned the rooftop and headed towards the fire escape. Glancing over the edge of the roof, they noticed a shadowed figure struggle to make her way down the steep stairs, leaning heavily onto the iron rails.

Clint leapt onto the fire escape and began to quickly scale down it, Natasha not far behind. The stairs shook with the thudding of their footsteps, alerting their quarry to their presence. Natasha glimpsed the brief flash of the girl's eyes as she glanced up at them, and then the girl was practically throwing herself down the stairs despite her injury. The last ladder of the fire escape was missing, the final platform a good six feet above the ground.

The girl reached the end of the fire escape before they did, of course, and without regard to her injury, leapt down towards the alley below. She grunted in pain as she landed on her feet, the impact jarring her injured leg. Natasha heard a familiar Russian curse drift up from the girl as she struggled to her feet and broke into a limping jog towards the end of the alley.

By now the two agents were nearing the end of the fire escape, with Clint in the lead. Natasha followed him as he leapt down to into the alley, landing on the ground in a roll to absorb the impact. Clint rolled to his feet and immediately drew his bow in the same fluid movement.

"Clint!" Natasha hissed, reminding him that they were supposed to catch the girl alive. They would already be in trouble for the first arrow hole, a second would only piss Fury off even more.

"Aw man…" Clint whined, putting his bow away.

They took off in a dash towards the limping figure. The girl whirled around to face them, eyes flashing above her face mask, two pistols in hand.

"Dodge!" Clint yelled unnecessarily.

Both he and Natasha darted out of the way as bullets sailed over their heads. Natasha darted to her left, but Clint ducked as he launched himself forward, tackling the girl at the knees, and the two of them rolled into the street. Luckily, this part of the city appeared to be quite deserted, with no cars in sight.

"Ublyudok!" The girl hissed at him as they toppled to the ground, and Natasha had to stifle a snort at the familiar curse.

Clint and the girl wrestled as she tried to free her arms long enough to put her pistol to his head, and he attempted to disarm her. In the end, the girl dropped her guns and the brief reflection light was the only warning Clint got before a knife slashed towards his throat.

Shit! Clint jerked back just in time to feel the blade slice the air near his neck. What is with this girl and her knives?!

"Move, Clint!" Natasha ordered as she drew next to the two brawlers, kicking the pistols out of the girl's reach and aiming her own down at their target.

Clint pushed himself up and off of the girl, but not before grabbing ahold of the cloth that hid the lower half of her face, which resulted in another near-fatal slash of her knives.

"Sdavat'sya!" Natasha ordered the girl to surrender in a stern voice. "My zdes' ne dlya tebya ubit'!"

We are not here to hurt you. Clint understood the phrase as he got to his feet and drew away from the girl. She remained sitting on the ground, injured leg splayed out while the other curled beneath her. She was hunched over, face cast into shadow, slowly raising her hands in surrender.

"Yest' veshchi i pokhuzhe , chem smert." The girl turned her gaze up to face them, eyes glaring with cold hatred.

And with the aid of the streetlights, they finally saw her face.

He heard Natasha's breath hitch, and noticed her fingers tremble at the trigger. Clint had a similar reaction, frowning gravely as the same thought ran through their minds.

She's so young…

Initially, Clint had guessed that she was in her early twenties, maybe eighteen or nineteen at least. He had been about that age when he began mercenary work. He knew that the Black Widows started much younger, but this…

"There are worse things than death." She had said.

It was like meeting Natasha all over again.

Thanks so much to all of my readers! Your reviews mean a lot. I'm glad that everyone likes this story as much as I do.

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