When Clint spotted the Black Widow climbing up the stairs with Aleksandr Miroslav, he politely excused himself from his conversation. He didn't bother masking his haste as he crossed the ballroom and climbed the stairs. He had hidden his bow case inside a vent on the second floor, ready for a snipe from above or if his target moved up. It just happened to be the latter.

After making sure there were no witnesses, Clint removed the black case from its hiding place and opened it on the marble floor. He slung his quiver over his gray tuxedo, tightening the strap until snug. Then he slipped his archer glove on his left hand. Finally, he jerked his bow to spring the limbs.

Down the hall, a door shut softly. Clint approached it and turned the knob slowly. Once the kob reached its limit, he pushed it forward a centimeter. Letting the door hold itself in place, Hawkeye notched an arrow to the bowstring. Then he took a breath.

He heard a thump inside, and he knew it was time to move. He shoved his shoulder into the door and scanned the room. He spotted the Black Widow pinning the terrified Aleksandr Miroslav against the floor with a gun to his forehead.

  She scoffed at the man's whimpers. "Begging? Pathetic."

Her finger tightened around the trigger. Realizing he still had the element of surprise, Hawkeye stepped forward and trained his arrow a few inches away from her head. At full draw, the power of his shot would crack through her skull and even hit Miroslav if he wasn't careful. He eased his draw a fraction.

  "Put the gun down, Black Widow, and let's talk about this like grown ups."

The back muscles of his target stiffened, but she didn't move. Then, slowly, she raised her hands and loosened her trigger finger in surrender. Clint allowed himself to relax a bit.

It was a mistake that cost him.

Her leg lashed out, knocking the arrow away from her head. In his surprise, Clint's fingers slipped, releasing the arrow harmlessly into the floor.

Romanoff's eyes followed it. Confusion flickered across her deadly calm. If Clint had blinked, he would have missed it. Clearly, he was the first bowman she had ever encountered.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent used her distraction to swing his bow at her head. She ducked and spun out of the way to give herself more room where Mirovslav's sniveling form wouldn't trip her. Widow raised her gun. Before she could pull the trigger, it was snatched out of her grip by an arrow. It slid against the floor far from her reach.

Disarmed, Black Widow raised her fists and adopted a fighting stance. Her eyes analyzed his every move, scoping for a weakness. His sharp eyes did the same in return.

His back was to the window and the door, cutting off the Russian assassin's escape. Not ideally, her target and her gun were on her side of the room. He just needed to finish it before she could grab either.

Hawkeye reached behind him and singled out the fletching of an arrow. His movement sparked Romanoff into action. She charged, narrowing the space between them and forcing the archer to forget the arrow in favor of defending himself.

Romanoff threw a punch. Clint shifted his head out of range while catching her arm between his bowstring and the upper limb to push her punch away. His opponent hooked her elbow around his bow and yanked it out of his grip. Clint only had a fraction of a second to realize he had been disarmed before Romanoff kicked him in the midsection. Thankfully, the soft mattress caught his fall.

Romanoff scrambled for her gun. Ignoring the throb in his abdomen, Clint launched out of the bed, grabbed her ankle, and dragged her away from her weapon. Romanoff whipped her head around to glare at him and her eyes flashed murderously. Clint had a moment to feel a sense of dread before she kicked him in the face. If she wasn't barefoot and if he hadn't prepared himself for the impact, she would have broken his nose. Still, he shut his watering eyes against the pain and released her ankle.

The two assassins jumped to their feet, facing each other. Throughout their fight, Clint had been analyzing her for information. Natasha Romanoff was both extremely strong and fast. He had yet to find a weakness. Russians were no joke. She was the most highly trained opponent he had ever faced. He kind of admired her, despite the circumstances.

Clint moved to take the offensive. He threw a punch at her face, following that with a kick to her side. Romanoff was just as skilled in her defense as her offense, blocking and dodging every attack he threw at her.

Clint found himself constantly shifting between offense and defense, which alarmed him just as much as his realization that Romanoff wasn't even out of breath. What kept his confidence from crumbling was the fact that he could hold his own. They were just about evenly matched, but the duel was stretching too long for comfort.

Widow dodged one of his punches and grabbed his arm. Like he had seen a hundred times in the circus, Romanoff used his arm like a trapeze bar and summersaulted around it so that his shoulder was twisted in an odd angle. Then she slammed him into the wall.

Other than the pain in his head, fortune was on Clint's side as his hand found his bow. Blinking away stars, Clint scrambled to his feet and nocked an arrow. At the same time, Romanoff had finally retrieved her gun and was turning to point it at him.

Before she could aim, Clint let his arrow fly, then instantly nocked two more arrows and fired. The gun clattered out of her hand, and Black Widow's arm smacked against the wall, two arrows pinning her sleeve. Romanoff made a fist in preparation to drive her arm downward and rip the fabric to free herself.

  "Do it, and I shoot," Clint warned as he trained another arrow at her heart.

The Black Widow froze, glaring daggers at him. They stared at each other, both refusing to be the first to back down. Her green eyes were defiant and proud, void of any other emotion. He felt them pierce his blue ones down to his soul. He wondered what she saw.

  "What are you waiting for?" she spat in a thick Russian accent. "Do it."

Her words were bold, but as she spoke, Clint caught a flicker of fear in her eyes. With all her skills and training, Clint wondered if this was the first time she had to stare death and judgment in the face. 

He could end it right now. Before either of them could blink, he could complete his mission. With his arrow aimed at her heart and her life in his hands... 

He couldn't do it. 

Instead of a girl with red hair, there was a boy with brown. He lay on the ground wounded, the rain soaking him through. The cold and pain were forgotten, numbed by the glint of a pistol in the darkness. Clint stared down the barrel with acceptance, disguising the fear of the judgement of his bloody past. The face of the man who held the gun was determined, yet merciful. He saw something in Clint: the need for redemption. A second chance.

Clint's weapon remained unwavering as he asked her the question that has been weighing on him these past few days.

  "Answer me one thing: Why did you do it?"

  Romanoff sneered. "Killing is my job. I'm an assassin, same as you. I don't need to explain myself to you."

  "Not that. Why did you save that little girl?"

At last, her tough, unfeeling countenance collapsed to surprise and confusion. Her arm slackened against the restraint. She blinked, her gaze softening.

  "I..." she swallowed, "I don't know."

A silence stretched between them as Clint considered her response. The lack of a reaction agitated Romanoff as she began to squirm and her expression hardened again. Clint inched his draw back. She stopped moving.

  "You didn't choose this, did you?"

  Romanoff scowled. "What are you talking about?"

  "We have very limited information on the Red Room, but the people I work for have run into one of you before during the Cold War. We know you've been trained in the Black Widow Program since childhood. They brainwashed you with children's films and chained you to your beds to keep you from escaping. They chose you, didn't they? Not the other way around."

Clint didn't think she was the kind to be shaken easily, but his words seemed to rattle Romanoff slightly. He heard a few seams in her sleeve rip as the arrow aimed at her heart was forgotten for a moment.

  "What is it to you? Your mission is to kill me. What are you waiting for?"

  "I asked someone the same thing once, only he had a gun pointed at my chest instead of an arrow. He offered me a second chance. Now I'm offering it to you."

  "Saving one life doesn't outweigh all the blood in my ledger," Romanoff pointed out in a softer tone.

  "Then don't stop there. You have special skills, Romanoff. You can use them for good." He adjusted his grip. He could hold his draw as long as he needed, even as it grew more uncomfortable and straining. "I'm offering you a choice here, something the Red Room never gave you. In this moment, you can choose the KGB and your old life or you can choose to use your talents to protect the world. It's your call."

  Her face muscles tugged the corner of her lip. "Is it really? If I decline your offer, you'll shoot me."

Clint didn't respond. He let Natasha study his face for lies.

  Finally, her posture relaxed and she smirked fully. "How do you think S.H.I.E.L.D. will react when you bring me in alive?"

  Clint frowned. "How do you know I work for S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

  "I didn't."

Clint raised his eyebrow to send her an exasperated look and lowered his bow. Romanoff ripped her sleeve free. Before she could move, Barton quickly scooped up her gun off the floor and tucked it in his waistband.

  At her glare, Clint responded, "Precaution. Consider it a compliment. I know not to underestimate you."

While Clint retrieved his arrows, Romanoff grabbed the cowering Miroslav's collar and punched him in the face, knocking him out cold. Clint had almost forgotten about him. 

  "That should buy us more than enough time to get out of here before they raise the alarms," she explained as she grabbed her heels.

Clint nodded in approval, then opened the window and set another arrow against the string. The arrow soared silently across the garden and over the wall, leaving a zipline in its wake. It struck a tree and Hawkeye pulled the line taunt, fastening it to the window's head casing.

He stepped aside and bowed with a sweep of his arms toward the makeshift zipline. "After you."

She sent him an annoyed glare before ripping a strip of fabric from her already torn sleeve. She threw it over the line and wound the ends around her fingers. Without hesitation, Romanoff jumped, soaring across the line like a spider, her namesake.

Clint followed her soon after. He flew silently over the guards, still blissfully unaware of the infiltration. Once he was over the wall, he dropped to the ground where Romanoff was waiting for him.

  "My ride is just outside the city," Clint whispered. "Let's go."

A hand on his chest stopped him.

  "No. I need you to prove to me that I can trust you and that S.H.I.E.L.D. really is different than the KGB."

  "What, sparing your life wasn't enough? If anything, S.H.I.E.L.D. and I need to know we can trust you."

  "Then consider this an opportunity for both of us."

She dropped her hand and began walking in the opposite direction of the Quinjet. Clint grabbed her arm to stop her, knowing it was a risky move. Natasha stopped, but didn't react further.

  "What is it you want me to do?"

  Romanoff yanked her arm out of his grip. "I need to grab some things from my safe house, then you're going to help me take down the Red Room."