And Natasha burned to death. The end.

Not actually. That would be mean.

Enjoy!

Damn pigheaded fool!

Clint fumed as he walked down the street.

Clint sighed. What did he expect? She was a covert operative same as him, had been for a long time. It made him sick to think about how young she was when she entered the business. It was the only life she had ever known. Trust issues were part of the territory. Occupational hazard. He was an enemy operative sent to kill her. It really was no wonder she refused his offer. If their positions were reversed, he probably wouldn't believe her either. He wasn't even sure why he bothered trying.

Coulson was always telling him he was too much of an optimist.

What he needed to do right now was find a phone and call in for an extraction. The sooner he could forget about the beautiful and stubborn redheaded who refused to admit she needed help, the better.

Coulson had yelled at him as soon as he came on the line, a testament to how worried he had been. Apparently he'd been missing for over a week.

He'd missed Christmas and New Year's. Perfect.

Apparently the Ukrainians didn't get the message. People were still wishing him Merry Christmas, and as night fell, he saw a group of carolers. It was messing with his head.

He had some time to kill before his ride arrived, so he found a small café and ate his weight in some tasty dumplings and savory pastries. The coffee tasted like shit, but he wasn't going to complain because the waitress was hot and flirted with him as she walked by. Finally things were starting to look up.

With just a half an hour to go, so he to finish off his awful coffee and head out. Gazing out the window, he takes a long draught and nearly chokes.

Spoke too soon.

There across the street, a very distinct redhead was being led by a group of burly men dressed in black, into an old burned out building.

Nope. Uh-uh. Not going to happen. She made her bed, she can sleep in it.

Clint gripped at the edge of the table, as if to keep himself from rushing into that building and beating every one of those men to a bloody pulp. She didn't want his help and he had no right to interfere. It was her life, her decision.

Besides, he had twenty-five minutes before he had to be at the rendezvous. If he wasn't there, they'd assume he was compromised, and he'd be on his own for getting back.

"Bol'she kofe?" He jumped, knocking his knee painfully against the bottom of the table. The waitress giggled at him as she refilled his coffee for him.

Recovering from his embarrassment at being surprised, he smiled charmingly at her and pointed toward the building across the street. "What's that building there?"

"staroy bol'nitsky?...uh…old hospital. Burned down years ago. It vas very sad, many people dead."

"oh"

She left him alone to stare thoughtfully at the decrepit building. Who was he kidding? He wasn't the kind of guy to just walk away from a fight, especially when someone needed help.

The guys came out, sans one redhead, and set up a perimeter around the building. He didn't like it.

What are they up too?

Not long after, black smoke began to climb its way into the sky. That was all the motivation he needed. Leaping to his feet, he threw down some bills and sprinted out the door. In his anxiety to get in the building and find her, he didn't pause to think out a plan. He jogged quickly up to the guy at the main entrance.

"Hey!" the guy turned at the sound of Clint's voice, and was rewarded by an unforgiving fist to the face, knocking him to the ground. There was a shout behind him, but he had already raced inside, frantically searching for that damned red-headed pain in the ass.

The air was already heavy with smoke and the building, having already been burned and abandon for years, was collapsing quickly under the heat.

He chose a wing at random, running from room to room.

"Natasha!"

Shit. She wasn't down this way. He had to backtrack, but found the way blocked by the fiery inferno. Steeling himself, he jumped through the flames, rolling when he hit the ground. He came up to his feet gritting his teeth in pain and patting out the flames on his arms. Wasting no time, he sprinted down the next wing.

"Natasha!"

There was no answer. Swearing, he continued his search. He wasn't going to leave without her.

"damn-it Tasha! Answer me!" Time was running out.

Shit. shit. shit.

There was a room near the end of the hall with the door blockaded. On a hunch, he threw himself at it, pulling away the furniture obstructing his way. He threw open the door and sighed in relief. He found her, strapped into a chair and staring into the flames, transfixed by the blaze that danced around her.

Running to her, he grabbed her shoulders and gave a good shake. "Tasha!" it took a moment, but her eyes refocused and she looked at him in confusion.

"What?" her voice was weak and horse from the smoke.

"Hang on! I'm gonna get you out of here sweetheart." He ran his hands over the restraints, evaluating them and looking around for something to use to pick the locks.

"What?" she said again as she fully realized his presence. "no. no! get out!"

He stopped briefly to stare disbelievingly at her. "What is this? Back to plan A? seriously?" He was not going to leave her. "I don't think so!"

"Get out!" she repeated fiercely "leave me! Go!"

"Woman! You talkin' crazy!" he ran his hand through her hair, his fingers met blood but also…bingo! He pulled a pin from her hair and set to work on the cuffs, gritting his teeth as he handled the hot metal. "come on!"

Finally he had her free and was able to pull her from the chair. She didn't fight him as he tossed her over his shoulders on a fireman's carry, and bolted out the door as the roof caved in.

He exited the burning building by, what he assumed to be, the ambulance bay. The guard made a move to draw his gun, but Clint was faster, firing off a round without looking, never missing a step. He walked with a determined pace for several blocks before finding a secluded place to set her down. When he laid her down on the pavement, he found she wasn't breathing.

Fuck

"Don't you dare." He placed his mouth firmly on hers, delivering a couple full breathes. She began coughing a choking and rolled onto her side away from him. He sat back on his heels, sagging in relief. Instead of hitting him or yelling at him, her face crumpled and she sobbed uncontrollably. Shocked be her unexpected break down, all he could do was gather her into his arms and hold her while heart wrenching sobs racked her body. In her grief she turned her face into his shoulder and dug her nails into his skin.

By the time she had calmed down, Clint had missed his ride by twenty minutes.

She seemed almost catatonic, allowing him to lead her around like a small child. Holding her closely to his side, he led her down the street to a small clinic that had closed down for the night. He picked the lock and pulled her into an examine room, easily lifting her onto the table. He made her take a twenty minute breathing treatment while he, cleaned her split lip, tended to both of their burns, and clumsily sutured the wound on her head

He gently laid her back on the table and set her up with some oxygen. "Stay here okay? I'll be back in a little while," She nodded mutely; all the fight had gone out of her. He dropped a tender kiss to her forehead before leaving her there.

It took him a couple of hours, but he managed to arrange for the authorities to discover a burnt corpse of Natasha's approximate height, age, and weight, in the rubble. An arrow embedded in its eye socket. A DNA match would be near impossible. He sent off a report to shield that he knew could be hacked, detailing the demise of the Black Widow, before returning to the clinic. It wouldn't hold up under much scrutiny, but at least it would slow down those who were chasing her.

Just a friendly reminder to review please and thank you. :) I check for reviews like a crack addict. It's pretty sad…