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Another two weeks passed and the atmosphere of the base didn't improve any. He didn't know if it was pride, or her not wanting to seem weak, or something else, but Natasha wouldn't let up. Every time they were on the mat together, she found some way to put him down, and people were noticing.

Their matches had quickly become a spectacle. He was one of the few who could last quite a while against her, but so far hadn't managed to definitively win a match. He'd manage to get her cornered or pinned, and she'd pull a dirty trick to get out of it. Fighting dirty wasn't against the sparring rules, they were spies after all, but you did have to know how to do them without severely injuring your opponent. Natasha had exquisite control over her body.

Surely she had to know that if something didn't change soon, Fury might decide she was more trouble than she was worth. At this rate, no one was going to be able to be teamed up with her for a mission. In the field, you had to trust your teammates to have your back or the mission could easily turn into a disaster. Briefly Clint wondered if maybe that was what she wanted.

Clint gave it his best effort to win at least once. One loss under her belt would go a long way to easing the tension on base He'd only bested her in Sao Paulo because she gave up, and in Simferopol' he had the advantage of a sedative and dumb luck. But perfectly healthy, well rested, and determined, she was a hell of a lot harder to land a blow on.

Weiss helped him out as much as he could, running them through short drills and avoiding full out sparing matches. Weiss helped him develop new moves to counter Natasha better; but he still wasn't able to best her and she refused to cooperate.

He tried to talk to her about it at dinner, but she ignored him while she idly pushed her food around her plate. She'd been like this all day, completely unresponsive.

So he showed up at her door after curfew intending to give her a stern talking to. The poor guy assigned to stand guard at her door looked utterly terrified. The kid jumped at Clint's quiet arrival, sputtering and snapping to attention.

Clint casually waved him off and knocked loudly. After a moment when there was still no answer, so he pounded harder.

Again, no answer.

Growling impatiently, he entered Coulson's security code (which he wasn't supposed to know) and unlocked the door himself. Feeling he had given her plenty of warning, he barged in.

"This is redicu-"

The room was empty.

Oh shit.

"uh…" he awkwardly pulled the door shut. The guard was looking at him curiously. Shit. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "she's uh…asleep…keep up the good work." He patted the guy on the shoulder, and then attempted to walk calmly away.

His mind raced through all the things she could possibly doing running around the base unsupervised. She could buy a lot of friends with precious information stolen from SHIELD, and a fearsome reputation if she found a way to level one of its bases. Perhaps he was a fool to try to bring her in, to think she could change.

Casually, he walked through the command center and other key points, eyes carefully scanning for any sign of her. Rafters, air vents, anywhere she might conceal herself. He found no trace of her. If an alarm went up, they would kill her on sight.

Swallowing his panic, he retrieved his bow and quiver and took to his high places, where he could better see.

On the top floor of the base, there was a large arena that was only used a couple times a year for massive combat simulations. One of the windows near the ceiling had a substantial crack in it (which Clint had had nothing to do with). He found her there, high up in the rafters, with her back to that window.

He hadn't seen her with her hair down in a while, but now it fell about her shoulders, back lit by the moon that created a pale red halo. Her face was cast in shadow, but he could tell that her eyes were closed and her face was completely relaxed. He knew she was beautiful, but this was the first time he'd seen her without a mask since her breakdown outside the hospital. She wasn't coolly indifferent or sultry and sexy. She was simply pretty.

Relieved, he made his way toward her. He was certain now that SHIELD had nothing to fear from her unless they made the first move. She opened her eyes as he silently approached, following him as he crouched down next her.

"Natasha?"

"Hm?" she looked away, turning to gaze out the window.

"What are you doing here?" he asked softly.

"Are you going to report me?" she asked in return, tracing a design with her finger along the glass.

"No" he sighed, "I mean…Why are you here? Why did you come into SHIELD with me?"

She gave a minute smile, "because you vould not leave me alone" guess she didn't really know herself.

He sighed, "Natasha, you gotta try and-"

"Make friends? Aren't they expecting me to pretend? To be nice and try to gain their trust? It is pointless" couldn't argue with that.

"You gotta give people something."

"vhy do you care?" Her native accent colored her words. For the first time, Clint noticed sheen of sweat across her forehead. She looked tired, like she had not slept in days. She did not look well.

"Natasha," he reached out to run his knuckles along her cheek, but she flinched away, avoiding his gaze. Her hands were shaking. "Are you okay?"

Detecting his gaze, she fisted her hands tightly at her side.

"I'm fine" she said tersely. He didn't believe her. She stood so abruptly, he almost lost his balance. Gazing up at her, he found her mask back in place; her face was hard as marble.

He started to say something but she cut him off with a harsh tone, "Good night" and then quickly walked along the beam, teetering uncharacteristically. He followed her carefully to make sure she got down alright, and then trusted her to get back to her room.

The next morning she didn't show up to breakfast. He assumed she just merely wanted to avoid him. But then she didn't show up to the gym afterwards. It wasn't like her. She was nothing if not punctual and professional. She might skip breakfast to avoid him, but she always showed up for assessment on time.

After twenty minutes of waiting, he took off for the barracks.

When he arrived, the kid from last night was standing there staring at the door, obviously debating whether or not to knock and risk the Widow's wrath. Clint brushed him aside and punched in the code to open the door. The room was tidy and empty.

"Where'd she go?" he heard the kid exclaim behind him.

Clint stepped further inside. He couldn't believe she didn't come back.

There was a faint whimper behind him. In the corner behind the open door she was huddled with her knees pulled up to her chest and staring unseeing into space.

Damnit! He knew she wasn't alright last night.

He dropped to his knees in front of her. She was shaking like a leaf and her skin was hot to the touch. "Natasha?" she didn't respond. He cursed.

"Alert medical." he commanded the guard and then turned back to Natasha. When he tried to slip an arm under her knees and behind her back, she whimpered and pulled away, pressing into the wall as if trying to disappear into it. "Shh, hey Tasha, It's just me." He murmured.

Slowly, he was able to coax her into his arms so that he could lift her. She dug her nails into his skin as she grasped the front of his shirt and buried her face in his shoulder. People stared open mouthed as he carried her to the medical bay but he was beyond caring what they thought. His only thought was Natasha.