Title: The High Road Is Hard to Find

Summary: He had been sent to kill the Black Widow. But as he sighted down the arrow something shifted and he suddenly found himself making a different call.

Chapter title: When the Fires Have Surrounded You

Author's Note: Let me just start off by saying how sorry I am that it has been so long since my last post. I never meant to take it this far without posting a new chapter. Normally it would come around once a week, but my computer crashed and I have only now been able to upload something. As a thank you for your patience, my dear readers (assuming you haven't left me yet), I will post another chapter within a matter of days.

But until then, enjoy this one!

Disclaimer: This is written for entertainment purposes only. No profit will be made and no copyright infringement intended.

Clint kept the radio silence. He knew Phil would kill him when he finally turned his comm. on again. That was if he lived long enough to turn it back on.

He decided not to let his thoughts dwell on those kind of things and instead focus on what on earth he was going to say. He was basically asking her to defect and he had absolutely no idea how she would respond.

For the umpteenth time during a few hours he considered if he was actually going insane. This was crazy and stupid. The stupidest thing he had ever done and that was a tough one to beat. As he sat perched on top of the roof across the apartment the Widow had disappeared into, waiting for the weak sunlight to disappear and for nighttime to arrive to make his move, it suddenly hit him what he was about to do.

If he failed, he would probably pay with his life. Either that, or the Widow could pay with hers, which came out with the same result. If he succeeded in convincing her and she came back with him, both of them could be branded traitors and locked up for the rest of their lives if they even got that luxury. It was entirely possible they just decided to execute the both of them immediately. He could lose everything he had worked for and achieved the past four years. Phil, Fury and the few friends he had impossibly gotten during this time would all be gone and he would have failed them all. His shot at redemption for everything he had done in his past would be his first and worst miss ever. There was a lot at stake. And was he willing to risk it all to bring in perhaps nothing more than a Russian spy?

But he had gotten a chance when he didn't even think one had existed … So the best he could do was to extend that courtesy to someone else who needed it just as badly.

He would take the consequences.

Come hell or high water. Or the fury of a certain SHIELD Director.

Evening finally came and Clint made his move.

He eyed the streets and made sure it was clear before he aimed a special grapple-hook arrow in the alley next to the raggedy apartment complex and fired. He swung soundlessly through the air until he reached the covering darkness of the small alley-way where he detached himself from the string and landed and rolled on the rough pavement.

He hid his bow and quiver quickly in one of the dumpsters, knowing it would be safe there. Then he swiftly and silently made his way through the backdoor and up the creaking stairs until he reached the thin wooden door of Black Widow's apartment.

He sneaked up toward the apartment and gingerly knelt down and placed his ear against the door. He listened after any indication she was still in there and she hadn't sneaked out during his waiting game. At first he couldn't even detect her breathing and any other agent might have thought she was gone and waltzed right in there to wait. But he knew better and listened more carefully.

There.

A tiny adjustment of a foot caused the wooden floor to crack ever so slightly. Satisfied, he grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door open. He sneaked in, keeping his steps light. The light was off, enveloping the entire empty room in darkness. The only light came from the few still-functioning streetlights that filtered through the large windows, creating yellow squares that almost looked painted onto the wooden floor.

The rotten boards shrieked as someone moved behind him and the door slammed shut. "For five days you have followed me. Why?" a female voice demanded from behind him. There was no hint of an accent present despite her Russian origin.

"Actually I've followed you for seven," Clint casually replied.

There was a silent for a short moment as if she was surprised she hadn't detected him sooner. Then she continued on in a calm, rough voice: "If you are here to kill me, then you shouldn't have left your bow behind."

"I'm not going to need it," Clint smiled, even though she couldn't see his face. He flexed his hands and let a small knife slip out of his sleeve, his fingers gripping the steel hilt. He hid it before he went in. That and a larger combat knife he always carried in his boot were the only weapons he brought. No need to go in gun blazing for what he came to do.

A soft click filled the room as the Widow cocked the safety of the gun she was aiming at Clint's head. "Bad call," was her response.

He couldn't help but grin wider. The fact that she hadn't pulled the trigger yet confirmed all of his suspicions. He had dressed the soil, now all he needed was to plant the seed. But he had to step lightly. Even the smallest mistake could prove fatal. "You would think so, wouldn't you?"

And in that moment he turned to the side, quicker than most, and threw the knife. Her lightening reflexes acted immediately and she fired the shot. But by the time the bullet would have reached him, Clint was already gone and the blade landed with the ever-so-present accuracy. It knocked the gun out of the Black Widow's hand and clattered to the floor.

Gun forgotten, she jumped up in the air to prevent Clint from turning her over as he kicked sideways after her legs. The Widow then threw herself forwards, grabbed a hold of Clint's shoulders and proceeded to flip over him. As soon as she landed on her feet, she grabbed a firmer hold of him and used all of her body strength to yank him over her back; using the momentum she had gained to power her move. He landed hard on the floor, the wind knocked out of him. But he shook it off quickly and got to his feet. But she didn't let him have any breaks as she charged at him again. He blocked her fist, grabbed her wrist with one hand while the other was placed on her shoulder joint. She bent, an automatic reflex from her body as it adjusted to the uncomfortable position.

"I have an offer for you," Clint said, while he locked her in the current position.

That didn't faze her though. "Not interested," she muttered, before she managed to swing her other arm around his neck and force him towards the floor. They both rolled a few feet before they broke away from each other, both getting up easily.

"I don't think you understand," Clint breathed out, before ducking under the fist that was directed at his head. He tried to place one himself, but she avoided it just as quickly, and once again tried to land her own hit. He grabbed her arm and pulled it behind her back, locking it in place with his entire body. "I am offering you a way out."

Black Widow slammed her head back into his. The whole world went white for a second and returned just in time for him to see her trying to swipe his feet away. He jumped backwards into a back spring, using his hands to push himself back to his feet. She wasn't surrendering easily, but Clint had expected that. He just had to keep pushing.

From behind her back she produced a small knife and slashed it sideways towards his head. He stepped out to the side, but wasn't quick enough. The thin blade slashed into his bicep and left a small gash in the skin.

She swung the knife upwards and brought it down. Clint put his underarm against hers and stopped the blade before it stabbed him in the chest. She tried to pull away to try again but he got a hold of her wrist and took a firm hold in her hair. Yanking in a girl's hair probably wasn't the smartest idea to get her to listen to him, but right now he needed to pin her. He made sure to yank her head to she could look at him.

"Listen," he ordered with as much authority he could muster. "I was sent here to kill you. Just because I don't succeed doesn't mean they are going to give up."

The red-haired woman looked him dead in the eyes. "I don't expect them to," she muttered through her clenched teeth.

"I know a way for you to start over," Clint continued. She was still trying to press the knife down towards him, a small sweat breaking out on her forehead. "I need you to trust me. There is a place for you and it isn't here." She tried to tackle him with her feet, but he stepped away without releasing his firm grip. "A place where you can be Natasha Romanoff and not the Black Widow. A place without ever worrying about hiding or outsmarting whoever comes for you next."

She glared at him as he spoke her name and if looks could kill he would probably be lying stone dead at that moment. But the look didn't terrify him, like she probably would have thought, and instead he glared back. For a moment they just stood and stared hatefully at each other and the silence wrapped around them like a blanket. The only sound was that of their heavy breathing. Both of their bodies were tired, their muscles burning from the strain, but neither backed down. She pulled against his firm grip to get free, but Clint stubbornly held fast. He wasn't letting go until she saw reason.

But a single drop of sweat rolled down Clint's forehead, pulled by gravity, and dripped into his eye. The small second it took for him to instinctively blink it away was all the distraction she needed. Black Widow brought his arm closer to her head and bit down on the flesh. Clint hissed and was forced to let go of her, though his hand was still tangled in her red hair. She swept his feet away and his body came crashing down. She went down with him, as he still hadn't untangled his hand from her curly hair. They were on the floor again, rolling, but this time they weren't trying to get away from each other. Instead they tried to land punches and kicks, and the Widow desperately tried to plunge the knife into him.

She landed a sharp hook on his chin and while he tried to blink the daze out of his eyes, she sat up on top of him, placing her knees on his shoulders. She had him secured to the floor. He clawed at her upper arms with his fingers and wrapped his legs around her body the best he could in an attempt to stop the knife floating just an inch from his face. His plan had started to back-fire. It was exploding in his face and it was in that moment he wondered if he had made the right decision. But then he remembered what he had seen out there on the street. The look he had spotted on her face, despite of the fact that she tried to hide it. So therefore he took another, final chance; he knew it was now or never.

"Go on," he argued and removed his hands from her arms. He still had his legs around her, but that wasn't going to do much good if she did bring the knife down. She frowned at his incredible stupid move and hesitated. "Do it," he continued. "Once I'm dead, they'll just send in another. And they won't stop until you are dead."

The knife was shaking in her hands. She brought it slightly closer to his exposed throat. The tip was resting on his Adam's apple. She lingered there. It would be easy. One tiny movement and he would be no more.

And he waited for her to move but she stayed in that position. Hands shaking, breathing shaky and quick and her fiery red hair plastered to her face. Clint could see the wheels spinning on her head, her turn to analyze the situation from every angle yet coming up with nothing. He could see her ponder her possibilities, her options, her conflicts, her fate.

She stared into his eyes, puzzled and questioning. She seemed to search his face for his deceit, to spot the truth he was probably hiding underneath the lies. He kept his gaze steady on her and allowed her to see. He opened up for all of his emotions and his sincerity, praying she would see the truth for what it was.

"Are you serious?" she whispered hesitantly.

"Trust me, Romanoff. This is your only chance." Clint kept his voice soft. "Take it or kill me."

TBC