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: Nowhere To Run

Author's Note: And so we have another chapter! This one is perhaps a bit shorter than the last one, but hopefully just as good! Enjoy!

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

Phil stood at the end of the black quinjet's ramp, his hands curled up tightly in his pockets. His sunglasses blocked out the sunlight filtering through the cloud cover as he gazed out over the large, bare tarmac. The plane's engines were rumbling behind him.

To anyone watching he might have looked stoic and relaxed, but the truth was he was far from calm. His set jaw had begun to ache from being tightened for so long as he anxiously waited. They were already hours behind their schedule and were supposed to have left Russia by now. But they couldn't leave. Not yet.

"Sir. We can't wait much longer," the pilot said and joined him by the ramp, his helmet already on. He wasn't impatient, but he was afraid of what Fury might do when they finally took off and Phil didn't blame him. But they had to wait a little longer.

"Let me worry about the higher-ups, Jameson," Phil ordered. "Just keep the engine running."

The pilot nodded and disappeared back to the cockpit again. The handler checked his watch again for what had to be the 100th time during the past hours. Clint should have showed up by now. Whatever had happened, he should have been there. It was driving Phil crazy. He knew his agent was more than capable to handle himself out there. He had done so for years, even without SHIELD as a backup. But Clint wouldn't be this late unless something bad had happened. At least, he should have taken up contact again if they were behind schedule.

Phil wasn't just anxious about the archer's safety. He was anxious about who showed up with him. This plan to bring in the Black Widow and train her to be an operative was absolutely ludicrous. But he said he trusted Clint on this and he did. He had made a promise and he intended to keep it. Which was why he had made the call to Fury to let him know they brought back a prisoner and possible asset. It had been a long conversation, one that didn't end well. But he had talked the Director into hearing Barton out and at least not shoot the Widow as soon as they landed. Phil had taken that as a victory.

Tires squeaking brought him back to the present where he saw an old rotten car racing towards them. As it got closer he could make out the two figures inside. Phil smiled and let out a breath of relief. To think he had doubted.

"Ready the plane! We leave now!"

The plane ride back to the States turned out to be one of the most awkward ones Phil had ever had. The tension was thick enough to stop a bullet if it needed to.

The few agents in the cargo hold constantly sent bitter and apprehensive glances in Romanoff's direction. To her credit though, she didn't spare them a single one back. She ignored them completely and sat stiffly in her seat, gazing intently on the wall opposite her like it held all the answers she needed.

Clint wasn't talking much either, which was perhaps what shocked Phil the most. The agent had taken a seat next to his handler. But he had his head turned to the cockpit where he stared out of the windshield on the blue sky as it sped by. He had one arm wrapped protectively around his midsection and the other loosely holding his bow on his lap. He sported a few bruises and cuts, just like the Widow a few seats away. Phil knew they had had to fight their way out to get to the airport, so that was no surprise, but he suspected there was more than Clint was hiding from him.

But he didn't try and ask, knowing as things were he probably wouldn't get a straight answer. It was a conversation for later.

Soon they reached Washington airspace and touched down in the SHIELD hangar. Phil got up from his seat and watched as Clint and Romanoff did the same. The time for judgment had come. Clint raised his chin as if steeling himself for what was about to come. There wasn't a hint of fear or trepidation present in his eyes. The grey orbs were just hard and ready.

The Widow, however, was a closed book. Nothing in her posture or face gave any hint of what she was thinking or planning. Phil couldn't read what was going on inside the redhead. Not even when the ramp lowered to reveal what Phil could only call a small army waiting outside in the hangar, all clad in black tactical suits and with automatic rifles in their hands.

As Romanoff made her way down the ramp, all of the weapons were raised and pointed at the Russian assassin.

"Natasha Romanoff! Place your hands on top of your head and get on the ground slowly!" one of the men ordered loudly.

She curtly raised an eyebrow at the whole charade then slowly did as she was told. When she lay face down on the ground, her hands above her turned head, the leader of the taskforce stepped forward and secured her hands behind her back with a zip tie around her wrists. She took all of it calmly and without a single twitch in her features.

Clint followed Romanoff down the ramp as she was raised to her feet by two agents. As soon as his feet touched the ground half of the guns shifted to his direction.

"That includes you, agent Barton," the agent coolly spoke again.

Despite Clint's shocked expression, it was Phil who opened his mouth first. "What?"

"We have orders to withhold Ms Romanoff and Agent Barton as hostiles pending the council's evaluation."

"Agent Barton is not a hostile or a threat!" Phil argued.

"I'm just following orders, agent," the leader said nonchalantly, as he watched his men surround the archer.

"Yeah, whose orders?" Phil stepped closer to the man, keeping his gaze hard and threatening. "I wanna talk to your superior."

"Phil, forget it," Clint's voice tiredly said and it drew the handler's attention back to his charge, who was slowly getting down on his knees. Clint only shrugged. "It's okay. Let it go."

"Clint …" This wasn't right and he knew it.

"It's fine," Barton roughly said and nodded his head to show his acceptance.

He proceeded to lie down the same way Romanoff had and allowed the agents around him to grab his arms and yank them behind his back. Phil didn't miss the way he winced at the rough treatment and the way his face contorted in a flinch as he was heaved back up again. Worry instantly settled in Phil's stomach and replaced everything else. There was definitely something the archer was hiding from him.

As he stood there dumbfounded and watched Clint being escorted away with the Widow in tow, his eyes fell on something small on the floor where Clint had been forced to lie.

It was drops of blood.

TBC