A/N Huge apologies to anyone who had a problem accessing Chapter 19 yesterday. I have no idea why it failed to appear as it showed on my profile as published. Hopefully it is all sorted out now... I blame Red pole personally!

Well, once again I want to thank all of you who are being so encouraging. This started out as a little idea that refused to go away and now is becoming a bit of an epic. I would like to say how nice it is to have you all along with me!

Thanks again and enjoy.

x

'I still get to kill him.' Barton said as he stopped the motorcycle in the grounds of the sprawling estate to let his partner dismount. Night was falling and she would use the cover of darkness to hide her presence as she crept into the building as back up.

'Excuse me? I don't think so.' Natasha retorted as she took the archer's bow. Barton needed to be seen to be unarmed even if there were various knives and a pistol secreted about his person. Natasha would be taking his favourite weapon in for him.

'You promised.' He said petulantly, handing over the quiver.

'That was two broken ribs ago.' She sniped. 'You had your chance, now he's mine.'

Clint revved the bike, turning it away from her. The plan was for him to make an entrance and draw attention whilst the spy took a more discreet route.

'I can hear you making that face.' She said coolly.

'I am not making a face.' He snapped back.

'Hey.' Her tone was softer.

Clint turned his head.

'Don't forget we have a date?' She said with a small smile.

'Wouldn't miss it for the world.' He said with a wink before revving the engine and speeding away up the drive.

The house was fronted by a large glass front door accessed by stone steps. On either side the steps were flanked by a sloping low stone wall. The long gravel drive gave the perfect run towards the house. Accelerating, Clint leant over the handlebars. As the steps came towards him he steered towards the wall. The low brickwork provided a perfect ramp as he twisted the accelerator until the engine was screaming. Flying up the slope the bike reached the summit where it launched and flew threw the air, crashing through the glass doors which exploded on impact. Barton skidded the Ducati sideways across the tiled floor until it came to rest at the foot of the ornate double staircase. Soldiers came running as Red Pole appeared at the top of the stairs. The Triad was wearing his mask. He held up a hand to order his men to stop.

'Very theatrical.' He said drily.

'Since you seem to have developed this obsessive man crush I thought knocking just wouldn't do it for you.' Clint snarked leaning casually on the handlebars as the bike idled.

Red pole descended a few steps slowly, his hands behind his back.

'For someone about to end his life you are remarkably blasé agent Barton?'

Clint shrugged. 'Meh, there's a long line of people wanting that honour, I don't think you're gonna be the one...'

'At least this time you had the courage to face me...' Red interrupted. 'Tut tut, sneaking in like a thief in the night to steal my guests.'

'Did you miss the bit where I turned your little toy soldiers into a domino rally...? Oh that's right; you were too busy running away.'

Fury flashed across the bloodshot eyes. Ripping the mask from his face, Red pole glared. 'You see what you did to me... how you have stolen my life!' He screamed, globules of spittle spraying from cracked and bleeding lips.

Clint blinked slowly as if unimpressed. 'It wasn't me who released the contagion now was it?' His voice dripping condescention.

'You dare to mock me!' Red wailed. 'And now you are going to pay for it.'

The Black Widow had climbed silently through a rear window and was making her way along a darkened corridor when she heard the crash of the glass shattering. She began to encounter soldiers running to investigate; it was easy to pick them off one at a time leaving them unconscious and broken. One attempted to throw a punch; she grabbed his arm, twisting it back against the joint before slamming his head into the wall. A duo of assailants were dispatched with the aid of her garrotte and patented scissor kick throw and her widow makers were soon employed on a large guard who hadn't even time to react. By the time she reached the hallway at least twenty potential problems had been neutralised.

Clint was having a similar amount of entertainment. As soon as Red pole ordered his henchmen to attack Hawkeye leap agilely onto the motorcycle seat. With a back flip he avoided the closest assailant before punching the man in the face until he fell. Taking the still running motorcycles handle bars, he spun the machine sideways, the wheels screeching as attackers were catapulted aside by the momentum. Letting go of the vehicle it spun across the slippery floor annihilating a charging group of men.

Looking up, Barton saw a guard fly backwards out of a corridor. He was closely followed by Natasha who nodded at her partner before flooring two more by smacking their heads together.

Standing on the staircase, Red pole's screamed instructions became more frantic as each of his men was thwarted in their attempt to catch Barton and now the Black Widow was also in his domain. In desperation he leapt from the staircase directly onto the back of Hawkeye who was fighting beneath. The archer staggered under the weight of the Triad who clawed at his face and head. Flailing backwards, Barton slammed Red pole into the wall, but the crazed enforcer refused to release his grip. The diseased hands found one of the archer's eyes and began to press on the socket. Clint slammed his attacker against the wall again.

With his free eye Clint saw Natasha clumsily loading an arrow into the bow.

'How hard can it be?' Natasha laughed. 'You do it.'

Stake outs could be incredibly long sometimes. They were waiting for a drug cartel in western Columbia to make a drop which the two agents fully intended to destroy. It had been three days and Natasha was bored.

'A bow takes skill, timing, and patience.' Clint explained.

'All of which I possess.' She answered smugly.

He had to concede the point and nodded in ascent adding. 'It's not as easy as I make it look.'

'Let me try.'

With a shrug the archer clicked open his bow and handed it to her along with an arrow. He pointed to a tree. 'Hit that.'

Natasha's normally dexterous fingers fumbled with the unfamiliar weapon until finally she managed to load the arrow. Lifting the bow she pulled back the string only to have the arrow fall to the floor.

Clint couldn't control the short guffaw which he quickly suppressed seeing the glare on her face.

Picking up the arrow she flicked the hair from her face and refitted it. Pulling back the string she closed on eye and looked down the shaft. Releasing the string it snapped against her fingers making her jump and drop the bow. The arrow landed woefully short of the tree.

Getting slowly to his feet, Clint retrieved the bow and selected another arrow. Standing behind the Widow, his body moulded to hers, he placed her left hand, cupped in his own, around the bow shaft. Taking her right hand, he guided her to place the arrow and pull back the string.

'Gently.' He said quietly in her ear. Natasha shivered involuntarily.

'Take aim... just relax.'

She exhaled slowly as she let go of the string. The arrow flew just grazing the side of tree.

'Better.' Clint said. 'Just needs practice.'

After far too few further demonstrations, he moved away from her. She didn't like to admit how she mourned the loss of contact.

She had practiced many times since, irritated that there was a skill she could not master. Sometimes she could hit the target... just... but for the majority of time the arrow would fly wildly wide.

Interestingly it was one of the few things Barton never teased her about. He would lend her his bow, his prized possession, he would coach her, advise her, and even guide her as he had that first day and yet she still failed to improve.

She sometimes wondered if, subconsciously, it was that she simply enjoyed sharing his passion for teaching her far too much.

How many times, Barton thought, had he attempted to teach Natasha archery, and despite her usual excellence with co-ordination she had never managed to master it, in fact she was unfailingly bad.

Now the arrow tip was pointed directly at him and she was taking aim.

He took a deep breath and closed his other eye.