"Never assume your target is dead. Always check for proof."

Natalia felt the irony now, standing over the burning debris of her handers' graves. One by one, she found each of their crushed, scorched corpses and crossed the names off her mental list. More blood gushing from her ledger.

This wasn't just a precaution, she had to do this. She needed to. As each of the women who had tortured her and stolen her childhood and identity were confirmed to be dead, Natalia didn't feel peace, but she did feel... release. They couldn't hurt her or any more innocent girls ever again.

She didn't check the other destroyed building. If she was to be in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody, Natalia didn't need to know if the trainees had survived. It would be easier for them to start a new life if they were off S.H.I.E.L.D. radar.

Barton watched and waited from a distance, allowing her to do what she needed.

At last, Natalia had her confirmations and could stall no longer. Carefully, she climbed out of the wreckage, avoiding the flames and cutting edges, and joined the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

  "You ready?" he asked in a voice that was tired and rough from inhaling smoke. Not trusting her own voice, Natalia nodded in answer.

Despite her personal endurance, Natalia sighed in relief when the device in Clint's hand reminded her they won't have to walk back to the Quinjet. In a few moments, a humming noise grew louder as the aircraft soared above them. It landed flawlessly a safe distance away and lowered its ramp invitingly for the weary assassins.

One foot on the edge, Natalia hesitated. To board the Quinjet was to surrender herself to S.H.I.E.L.D. Her fate would be in their hands, her penance up to their judgement. Her freedom could end the moment it began.

But where else would she go? Not back, back to them. She can only move forward. If Barton's offer was genuine, this could be the way to wipe out her ledger. If they refused to recruit her, then she deserved whatever justice dealt her.

Clint waited just inside, watching her. He said nothing and made no move to hurry her along. Comforted by this, Natalia entered the ship. The door sealed shut behind them.

The moment after Clint punched in the coordinates and the Quinjet started its course, the med kit was popped open on the floor between the two assassins. Accompanied by the hum of the engines, they exchanged bandage rolls, needles, tweezers, antiseptic, and other medical supplies in silence.

Silence usually made Natalia uncomfortable, but this was different. It was... rather calming. She didn't have many peaceful moments with people. With Barton sitting across from her, handing her a bottle of disinfect, Natalia thought it was nice having a potential ally, healing instead of killing. If she was to be locked away forever or executed at worst, she was glad to have known a good man like Clint Barton.

  "It's seven hours until we reach our destination," announced Clint, breaking the silence. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

  Natalia smirked grimly. "Well, it's not like I have a choice."

  "What if I gave you one?"

Natalia stared at him and noticed the wince as he pulled a glass shard from his palm. Surprise faded enough for her to hand him a bandage soaked in disinfect to mop up the blood.

  "What if–" he continued, accepting the cloth gratefully and wiping his hand– "I was to make a stop along the way. What if I came home empty handed, and I tell my superiors I failed my mission." Barton took his eyes off his injury to look into hers. There was no deception in them.

  "You deserve a choice, Natalia. You could disappear, make a life for yourself. If you're serious about changing your life, you'll fall off S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar. If not, I'll come after you."

A choice. The thing denied to her for her entire life, now laid out on a silver platter. It was almost overwhelming. To live a new life without killing, spying, and taking orders... to be normal, it was only something she could dream of before. It would be nice, but she couldn't do it. She would be living always looking over her shoulder, haunted by her past with a ledger still dripping red.

  "I'm staying."

  Barton's expression was soft. "Are you sure?"

  "You said S.H.I.E.L.D. gave you a second chance. To use your skills to protect the world instead of hurting it. I've got red in my ledger, Barton. I'd like to wipe it out."

  The archer nodded. "Okay. Two hours out, I'll let HQ know we're inbound." He finished binding his hand with finality. "There's microwave meals and bunks in the back."

While Clint cleared the medical supplies and scrubbed off their blood, Natalia limped into the back to find the food he mentioned. As she passed by the work table, the former KGB spy paused and leaned against it, her hand pressed against the cool metal surface.

She made a choice. She had made her choice. For the next couple hours, Natalia's life course was decided by her. Now she had to follow it through.

* * *

Clint gathered the plastic containers and forks from their meals and tossed them into the trash. He and Natalia had eaten without conversation. He couldn't think of a topic they had in common that didn't include dark pasts and assassinations. So he stayed quiet.

Natalia was sleeping now, or at least she looked like she was. Tucked in an alcove in the wall, the Russian assassin lay curled up on the bunk, her back to the wall and her arms beneath her head. Her bangs had fallen over her right eye a bit. Her chest rose and fell slowly in proper slumber.

After they had finished their meal, Clint gestured to the bunk and suggested she'd get some rest.

  "And you?" she had asked.

  He nodded to the flight controls currently set to autopilot. "I'll fly."

Clint saw the understanding dawn on her. Natalia had made her choice, and that made her Clint's prisoner. They both knew she wouldn't turn on him now, but he still had to treat her like a threat. 

So he held out his hand and asked politely for her weapons. 

He stared into space, vision blurring and crossing. His eyelids were heavy and his whole body ached, yet he flew the Quinjet for hours. He needed something to focus on, something to keep him awake.

Darkness faded into light. Time changed before his eyes as they soared to the other side of the world. 

Clint didn't regret his call, but he knew there would be repercussions. Fury might send him on longer missions. He might be arrested, interrogated. He may even lose his job, but he dreaded losing Fury and Coulson's trust more. 

Two hours out, Clint pulled himself together and contacted Headquarters. 

  "Agent Barton reporting in. Clearance code:  H-three-A-six-delta-E-two-seventeen."

There was quiet static on the other end. Then a feminine voice of a communications agent filtered through. 

  "Acknowledged, Hawkeye. Shall I patch you through to Agent Coulson?"

  "Affirmative."

There was no hold music for S.H.I.E.L.D. Just the static-filled pause that often inflicted anxiety on the archer. Thankfully, it never lasted for more than a few seconds, proving the efficiency of communications officers and S.H.I.E.L.D. technology. 

  "Barton."

Clint smiled grimly to himself at the coldness in Coulson's tone. He knew the man long enough to know it was annoyance and exasperation, not outright anger, but he also recognized that Coulson was his superior and he had severely overstepped by keeping him in the dark. 

  "Coulson, I'm inbound to Headquarters. ETA: 0800."

  "So you've completed your mission, then?" The older man's voice still lacked his usual warmth, but the coldness was exchanged for hopeful.

  Clint hesitated. "In a way, sir." The other side was silent, prompting him to continue. "I'm bringing in a prisoner."

The silence that followed was worse than an outburst. 

  "Sir?"

  "That was not your mission, Agent. Your mission was to terminate."

  He winced. Ah. Reduced to titles now. "I understood the mission, sir, but I had reason to believe the intel was incomplete."

  "She's killed more people than we know, including some of our own!" Now Coulson's voice was rising. Before Clint could explain himself, he heard a sigh and imagined a hand running down his handler's face. "We'll talk about this when you land. An armed escort will be waiting for you. Stay on guard and watch your back."

  "Acknowledged. Hawkeye out."

  "Well, that could have gone better."

Clint craned his neck to see the red-head Russian who had voiced his thoughts. Her legs dangled over the side of the bunk. Her green eyes were clear and alert. A touch of a teasing smile adorned her lips. 

  "How long were you listening?"

  "I'm always listening," Romanoff countered, sliding off the bed. "I tried to not eavesdrop out of decency, but it wasn't difficult to guess what was being discussed and how S.H.I.E.L.D. would respond to the change in developments."

She moved to stand behind his chair, crossing her arms and staring out at the pink clouds. The buzz of Clint's self-preservation instincts to always keep an enemy in front of you and never behind was absent. 

  "They won't fire you for this, will they?"

Probably not. He was too valuable an asset. Still, he could feel the foreboding of the possibility weighing over him. Natalia Romanoff wasn't the only one who was trying to right past wrongs. 

  "Just worry about how you're going to convince them that you're not a KGB infiltrator," he deflected. "How much sleep did you get?"

  A shadow fell and her red brows pinched together in an expression of... worry? Anxiety? It was difficult to discern. "Enough." Then she turned on her heel, and–poorly masking the limp–left Clint alone with the clouds. 

He couldn't decide if the last two hours passed too slowly or too quickly. He blamed his sleep deprivation.

Despite being in the middle of New York City, S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters was well hidden, camouflaged within the forest of countless shiny skyscrapers. 

A tremor rumbled though the Quinjet as it made impact with the landing pad. Clint spun around in the pilot's chair, gripped his knees and released a shuddering breath. He spotted Natalia still perched on the bunk she had slept in earlier. She hid her emotions well, but he noticed her white knuckles squeezing the edge. Not much fazed a Black Widow, but that identity was dead now. Natalia killed her when she accepted Clint's offer. It was up to him to be the confident force, otherwise compromise Romanoff's trust in S.H.I.E.L.D.

He approached her and she looked up at him. For once, she seemed small. Clint sent her a reassuring smile. 

  "You ready to go?"

She nodded, determined, and slid off the bed to stand.

  "I'm going to have to cuff you," he informed her with an apologetic undertone.

Obediently, she turned around and let him lock her wrists behind her back. He made sure the handcuffs weren't too tight, but enough to show S.H.I.E.L.D. she was subdued. 

Collecting the Widow's tools and weapons into his backpack, he slung the straps over his shoulders, then gently yet firmly gripped Romanoff's bicep. 

The ramp lowered, revealing twelve armed guards and Coulson in the center of them. The slight adjustment of the grip on their automatic rifles sent a ripple through the guards. Natalia held her head high as Clint escorted her straight to them. 

  The archer watched his handler study Romanoff for a minute before addressing him. "Agent Barton, these men will relieve you of your weapons and escort you to debrief."

  So not quite an arrest, Clint thought grimly as he dumped the backpack and emptied his gear and weapons, including his beloved bow, into a bin on a rolling cart. At least they were sparing him the humiliation of handcuffs. Four men split from the twelve, leaving Romanoff with eight and Coulson. He was almost insulted, except he could cling to the hope that his superiors still trusted him. 

This was only the beginning of the consequences of his actions.

 * * * 

Natalia felt the cuffs tighten around her wrists knowing they would do little to restrain her. Barton probably knew that, too. It was mostly for show. 

She had to fight the training brainwashed into her as she surrendered herself to S.H.I.E.L.D. They were welcomed by a committee of armed guards and one man. The man was well-kept in a navy suit and black tie with a clean-shaven face and combed blond hair. He was Barton's height, but lacked the same physique. No physical features betrayed his age, but the way he carried himself and even how he looked at Barton told her he was beyond Clint in years and authority. 

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent's blue eyes studied her up and down. Years of experience taught her the difference between a man checking her out and an expert who was analyzing her. So Natalia raised her chin and let him pick her apart. He didn't need long and quickly channeled his focus to the archer. 

Barton was relieved of his weapons and escorted away by four of the twelve men, leaving her with eight and the superior officer. As he left, Barton spared a glance over his shoulder to send her a reassuring smile. 

  "Follow me, Ms. Romanoff," said the officer in a tone that was polite but firm.

Surrounded from all sides, Natalia followed the agent into S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters. 

She felt the eyes boring into her, some with hostility and the ignorant ones with curiosity. Natalia kept her head high and refused to make eye contact with any of them. 

The agent led her to a room with black walls and one observation window with one-way glass. The guards stayed by the door as the agent sat her down in a metal chair and unlocked one cuff  to restrain her wrists in front of her to the metal table. In the corner, the red dot of a security camera winked down at her.

  "I'll send a woman in here shortly," the agent informed her. "There will be guards outside the door."

In other words, don't try to escape. Natalia wasn't planning on it. She knew they were leaving her alone to see if she'd try or to make her squirm. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of either. She sat perfectly still, staring at the blank wall.

Ten minutes later, the lock on the door clicked and let in a woman with dark hair and a hard expression. Unlike the agent before, she was dressed in uniform, showcasing the logo on her shoulder. Without exchanging pleasantries, the woman threw down a file onto the surface and sat down across from her. She folded her hands, elbows on the table, and her blue eyes stared directly into Natalia's, attempting to puncture through the walls to her mind, heart, and soul. 

  "Ms. Romanoff–" she began– "a Black Widow assassin for the KGB and a former trainee of the Red Room."

Natalia remained silent, keeping her expression controlled and neutral. 

  "What was the nature of your mission when you encountered Agent Barton?"

 * * * 

Clint tapped his fingers against the table surface restlessly. Before escorting him here, the guards allowed him to quickly change into a more casual uniform in his room. It was a small comfort to change out of his torn, burned, blood and sweat stained winter uniform.

Coulson had called it debrief, but Clint realized it would be an interrogation when they guided him into an interrogation chamber. They didn't lock the door and they didn't cuff him to the table, but there were guards outside and the camera in the corner was watching his every move. 

If this had been an enemy, he would be doing what he imagined Romanoff was doing now: stiff posture, neutral expression, tight lips, blank stare. Since this was S.H.I.E.L.D., Clint allowed his body to relax and betray his boredom. 

After ten minutes of impatient waiting, Coulson entered, barely containing himself from storming in. It's one of the reasons why he liked Coulson, he had more self-control than anyone he ever met, no matter how far Clint pushed his limits. 

Even so, he could see the restraint slipping as Phil ignored the chair to tower over Clint with his palms pressed against the metal surface and glaring down at him dangerously. 

  "Barton. What the hell were you thinking?"

 * * * 

  "My mission was to infiltrate Aleksandr Miroslav's art gala and assassinate him for leaking national secrets to the highest bidder when I encountered Agent Barton."

The woman didn't write notes, didn't show any emotion, or even take her eyes off of Natalia. She was like a impenetrable stone wall.

  She's good.

  "You and I both know that's too vague a question to start off an interrogation, sir."

  Some of the anger melted to exasperation. Coulson sighed. "You're not a prisoner."

  "But I am in trouble."

  "Fury's definitely not happy."

  "Is he ever?"

He's been testing Coulson's patience ever since he was a kid, trying to find the man's limits. However, the moment he let the comment escape his lips, he remembered that this was not the appropriate time to breach those limits. 

  Coulson slammed his palm against the table, irritation and anger burning in his eyes again. "This isn't a joke, Clint. You do realize you just brought a highly trained and very dangerous spy into our base of operations. You defied Fury's orders to neutralize a global threat by bringing her here to do what exactly?"

  "Why did you come to S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Natalia found the phrasing of the question curious. Either the woman severely underestimated Hawkeye's skills or accurately estimated Natalia's skills. Somehow, she knew Natalia was here because she wanted to be. 

  "To defect from the KGB and the Red Room to S.H.I.E.L.D. if permitted."

  "To recruit her to S.H.I.E.L.D."

  "That wasn't your call to make."

  "Sir, S.H.I.E.L.D. allows me to investigate before making a kill. It's how I know we're the good guys. I investigated and found that our intel was incomplete."

  "Did you blackmail or seduce Agent Barton?"

Blackmail? She didn't know a thing about him. Seduce? That surely would have gotten her killed.

  "No."

  Unable to argue, Coulson shook his head and began pacing. "Does she have something on you? Some secret from your past or a loved one held hostage?"

He knew Romanoff knew nothing more than what he told her. And as far as Coulson knew, Clint didn't have any loved ones left. 

  "You know she doesn't."

  His handler paused in his pacing long enough to give him a strange look. "Did she seduce you?"

Black Widows are chosen for their attractiveness and seduction was a well known tactic. He would never do that to Laura. She would kill him. 

  He gave Coulson the most dead serious glare he could muster. "No."

  "Then what made Agent Barton bring you in?"

Finally the woman shifted, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair in an illusion of ease. 

  The question made Natalia hesitate, cracking her composure. "I–I'm not sure. He told me... he saw that I wanted out. He said S.H.I.E.L.D. could give me a second chance like they gave him."

  "Then what made you bring her in?"

  "When she saved a little girl, it was completely uncharacteristic to what we knew about her. It led me to question if we knew the whole story. We know that the Red Room has been kidnapping little girls and brainwashing them into assassins. I had to give her a choice, like you gave me."

  Coulson ran a hand down his face, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Your situations are not allegorical, Barton."

  "You're right. I chose to be an assassin for hire. I used my once harmless archery skills to kill people for the highest bidder. No questions asked. But you still saw the potential in me, Coulson. You gave me a second chance. Why doesn't she deserve the same?"

  "What do you want from S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Natalia squared her shoulders and collected herself. This answer is what S.H.I.E.L.D. will use to find her defection sincere or not. She needed it to be good, and that meant being vulnerable. She lowered her protective shields and allowed the woman to look right into what little of her soul she had left.

  "A second chance. I've got red in my ledger. I'd like to wipe it out. The best way I see how is by taking the skills the Red Room gave me and using them to save the world instead of destroying it. Agent Barton told me S.H.I.E.L.D. could give me that chance and aim me in the right direction."

She sank against the chair's back and exhaled. Whatever happens next is up to S.H.I.E.L.D. Her future was in their hands. 

Coulson was quiet. Clint waited, watching the gears turn in his mentor's head yet unable to discern what he was thinking. 

  When he spoke at last, Coulson's tone was soft and unsure. "Do you trust her?"

Now it was Clint's turn to silently ponder. This was the answer that would decide Romanoff's fate. 

As an agent, his trust was supposed to be secluded to a select few. Before the destruction of the Red Room, he would have told Coulson no. It wasn't just Natalia burying her past, it was an opportunity to prove they could trust each other. In a fight for their lives, he had to entrust his life in her hands, and she protected it at risk to her own.

  "Yes, sir. I do."