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: Cause My Soul Has Lost Its Way

Author's Note: Another update from me. I am going on vacation and won't be able to post again until next week's sunday. Do not fret, I will post as quickly as I can afterwards. Until then, enjoy this one!

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

It wasn't until they heard the shower bursting to life and the water hitting the tiles that the crushing silence was broken. And when it was, Clint only wished for it to return.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Phil exploded, his voice loud enough for the whole block to hear. His eyes were harder and more determined than Clint had ever seen them. His handler started pacing around on the floor, his body unable to stand still with fury.

"Of all the irresponsible, reckless, immature, ridiculous, stupid-ass decisions you have ever made! What on earth persuaded you into making this one? Do you have any idea what you've done? Do you? This could not only end your career, but possibly your life! What were you thinking?!"

Clint just stood there and let him ramble. He felt like a child being scolded for doing something bad. He had never felt this small in his entire life. "Look, I know you're pissed, but -"

"Pissed off doesn't even begin to cover it!"

"Even so," Clint fought to keep his voice level and calm. He just needed Phil to see what he did. "I just need you to listen -"

Phil didn't even seem to hear him. "You were supposed to kill her!"

Clint crossed his arms defiantly, starting to feel the attitude he had been born with creeping in. He was getting sick of this game real quick.

"Well, I didn't."

"No, clearly," Coulson's voice had taken on a dangerous tone. "She's supposed to be lying dead in a morgue by now!"

"I couldn't do it, alright?" Clint yelled, his voice rising to the level as his handler's. "I wanted to, but I couldn't!"

"Are you high? Did you take something?"

"What?" The archer stared at Coulson like he was insane. Where the hell did that absolutely ludicrous idea come from?

"That is the only explanation for your actions. I have no idea what you were thinking or why you thought you had the authority to do so!"

"You know I won't do that!"

"Then what has gotten you so hell bent on saving her life?!" Phil gestured to the closed bathroom door, his face red and disraught.

"Why are you so hell bent not to?"

"Because she's a villain!"

"So am I!" The words flew out of Clint's mouth before he could stop them. His loud words seemed to echo in the deafening silence that followed afterwards.

All the fight left Coulson's shoulders and his eyes turned soft with sympathy. He opened his mouth to speak, but Clint beat him to it, his voice low and defeated.

"I kill people, Phil. It's not glamorous or heroic. But it is my job. And it's my duty. I don't necessarily like it, but it's what I do and it's what I'm good at. I lie and I kill and I hurt people. Last time I checked, that's a villain."

"You don't hurt people, Clint. Not those who don't deserve it. By my book, that's a hero … not a villain," Phil had lowered his voice too to a gentle tone, but somehow his words struck harder now than before.

Clint huffed humorlessly at the sentiment. "I'm never going to be some Captain America …"

"No," Phil said and put his hands on Clint's shoulders and looked him dead in the eye, his own eyes caring and kind now. He looked convinced of everything he said, like there was no other truth than that. He truly believed every word. "But you are Clint Barton and that's damn near enough. You will never be a villain."

Clint lowered his eyes and took in a deep breath. His handler spoke with such conviction that the archer almost believed his words. If there was hope for him, then there would be so for her. When he spoke again he didn't let his gaze falter. "Neither will she."

"How can you be so sure?" Phil searched his face for answers. He still didn't see but he was so close.

"I saw it. I trust my instincts, Phil. She wants a second chance. She needs one."

"She's a stone cold assassin, Clint."

"So was I when you brought me in," the archer argued. He could tell he was starting to win Phil over because now he was just giving piss-poor excuses.

"That's different. You started by the time you were 19. She was trained her whole life. You were a child once, however short that was … She wasn't."

"Trust me on this one, Phil. She is not the brainwashed assassin you believe her to be. There is something more." Time for the coup de grâce. "You have asked me time and time again to trust you. I have. Now, I'm asking you to trust me."

Phil sighed deeply like the whole weight of the world rested on his shoulders. He ran a hand across his face, debating with himself on what to say. Clint waited anxiously for the next words that came out of his mouth.

"Alright, kid. I trust you."

Phil had left shortly after that.

They agreed to meet tomorrow at the tarmac just outside of Moscow where their ride home would be waiting for them. There was a lot to be done. Most of all, it involved a call to let SHIELD know they would bring another living passenger. The call Phil had to make to Director Fury was not one Clint envied having. But he knew at least now that his handler would have his back and support him on it. And that was one thing that meant the world to him.

Romanoff emerged from the shower a few minutes after Coulson had closed the door, when Clint was heedlessly fiddling with the small gash she had inflicted during their fight, deciding whether or not he needed to do anything about it. It wasn't deep and he could barely feel its sting, so his conclusion was that it could be left alone for now. He looked up as he heard her approach. Her damp hair that was beginning to curl naturally as it dried was the only sign that she had even taken a shower earlier. "Be careful next time you go swinging your knife all over the place, would you? Innocent people get hurt."

His words were light as was his voice but his eyes tracked her every single movement as she walked across the floor, his body tense and alert. She noticed.

"You are wary of me," she stated openly.

"Why wouldn't I be? You've killed several of our agents."

"I'm not going to apologize if that's what you're looking for."

"Don't bother. I didn't know any of them anyway," he said it off-handedly, like he hadn't seen the body bags that had returned instead of the agents that left the base. The awkward silence that followed was too much for Clint to bear.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He took her silence as a yes and continued.

"What do you want with Vladimir Angeloff?"

"He had a way for me to disappear from their radar," she quickly answered. "I would be out of Russia without a trace before they realized I was gone."

Clint thought he should be surprised at the knowledge that she was already trying to leave, but based on everything he had seen so far, he wasn't. It only cemented his belief that she truly was ready for a change. He was more certain of it now than ever before.

"Your turn," Clint nodded towards her. At her questioning stare, he smirked. "There must be something you want to ask me. You answered mine, let me return the favor."

He expected her to ask him about SHIELD, about the new life that was waiting for her when they landed in Washington. God knew he had tons of questions back when he had first stepped foot in SHIELD headquarters. But what she asked threw him off guard momentarily.

"Why?" She didn't need to clarify what she was asking: Why didn't he kill her like he was supposed to.

When he had gotten over the initial shock however, he didn't hesitate in his answer. "Because I believe in second chances. And redemption."

"Second chances are an illusion," she was quick to counter. "Either you don't screw up or you live with the consequences."

"But you do believe in redemption? Aren't that two sides of the same coin?" Clint argued.

"You can redeem yourself without changing. Seconds chances mean what you did as yourself wasn't good enough and you have to change. And I don't believe people can change."

"Second chances aren't given so you can change. They are given so you can show who you really are and what you're capable of."

"You think I haven't shown what I'm capable of yet?" Romanoff asked. Her eyes sparkled with a dare to challenge her.

Clint didn't rise to the bait. Instead he just answered honestly: "I think you haven't shown who you really are yet."

Romanoff looked away and instead focused on the same window she had been staring out off earlier. Clint didn't know whether it was out of shame or disagreement or something else and he never got the chance to ask. Because her brow furrowed at something outside.

"They followed us," she whispered. The archer rose from the chair and stared out the other window to see what she meant. Dark-clad people were moving in the shadows down the street towards the apartment. He had noticed some of the figures earlier when he had followed the Widow, but he had never thought much of it. Every time he was convinced he saw someone, they were gone so fast he believed it to be a trick of the mind. But it was one of the reasons he had brought her to this run-down apartment. No matter the case, he was a fool to dismiss it so quickly.

"Yeah, I noticed them earlier," he said. "Friends of yours?"

"Not anymore." The venom in her voice was enough to kill.

"Guess this whole thing about defecting is going as quietly as you thought then," Clint commented, ignoring the dirty look she threw him. He wasn't exactly shocked to know that the Red Room was coming for her the minute they knew she was leaving them.

He moved to grab his weapons. He adjusted his quiver onto his back, checked his remaining gun clips while he placed his gun in the thigh-holster. Next to him, Natasha did the same. With a nod to signal that she was ready, Clint took a hold of his bow.

Time to get out of here.

TBC