literature

Love Withstands

Deviation Actions

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Being alone was a feeling that Natasha Romanoff was quite used to, considering her line of work. It was not in an assassin's nature to need the company of another person, for each worked alone, their duty as their only companion. And all of her life, Natasha had sworn never to love – she knew too well how much it hurt when they were torn away from you, which they inevitably would be, sooner or later. An assassin's life was lonely, loveless…but it was the path that she had chosen, however much she sometimes despised it.  
Yet on this night, as she sat alone in her small house on the outskirts of New York City, Natasha yearned to have the company of another. Never in her life, not since she was a little girl, had she wanted to be with someone else so badly…it was a strange feeling, but it was one she embraced nevertheless. The reason: for the first time in twenty long years, someone had entered her life that made her feel happy.
It had been six months since the Avengers Initiative had been formed, and though the wounds and bruises had long since healed, there was one thing which had not faded away. Ever since Natasha had met once again with her old acquaintance, Clint Barton, he had seemed to have a hold on her heart.  Both expert assassins, both killers in their own right… and through the ferocity of battle and the final stand for humanity, they had found one another.
Standing, Natasha walked slowly through the empty rooms, up the staircase and to the bedroom that she and Clint now shared. A gentle smile passed over her lips as she looked around the room; this was a normal life, a human life; such a thing she would have never expected to achieve. She had a home to live in – permanently, this time - a kitchen where she could cook her own meals, and a garden to relax in. She could wear floral dresses – not the tight black jumpsuits that she used to wear – and she no longer had to carry a gun in her back pocket. In the months they had been together, Clint had had helped her put the Black Widow to sleep, and made her feel more like a woman than she had ever done. It was love, and it was perfect.
Natasha's thoughts were interrupted by a rapid pounding at the door. Inhaling sharply, her heart leapt at such a sudden sound, but she quickly calmed herself – the knocking of a door was nothing to worry about, and there was no need to ready herself for an attack. It was probably just Clint, back from his night out.
Leaving the bedroom behind her, Natasha headed onto the stairs, but pulled herself to a halt immediately when another, more violent, knock could be heard. More desperate this time, more frantic. Fear creeping its way into her heart once more, she did not linger, rushing down the remaining steps and hurrying to the door. A muffled grunting could be heard just outside, and if she listened closely enough, she could make out two voices, conversing quickly. Her heart now pounding at the presence of such strangers outside her door, Natasha paused with her finger on the latch, and cautiously, she called out.
"Who is it?"
"Natasha," one of the strangers responded, and Natasha recognized the voice almost immediately, "let us in!"
Flinging the door open, Natasha stood back to allow the two men, who had been standing on the doorstep, to stumble inside. She knew they were friends – she could recognize that voice anywhere – but the atmosphere which they dragged inside with them was thick with danger, and Natasha shuddered as she felt it pass over her. Closing the door to shut out the cold and the dark, she hastened to the kitchen, terrified of what she may find there.
Only when the two men stood back did Natasha's eyes fall on the sight she had hoped she'd never see. Pushing past them roughly, she threw herself forward, letting out an agonized scream.
"Clint!"
Carried in across the shoulders of the two other men, the body of her lover now lay, motionless, on the surface of the table. Under the bright lights of the kitchen, the bruises that now dappled his skin shone, ugly and bold - imprints of the blows he had sustained. Staggering around the table, Natasha let her eyes move to every cut that adorned Clint's face and neck, each one deeper and more brutal than the next, and she let out a small whimper as she noticed the blood that was drying on her lover's skin. Coming to a halt at the head of the table, Natasha cradled Clint's head in her hands, hovering over his face just enough so she could feel his breath, as shallow and faint as it was, on her cheeks.
"What happened?" she managed to whisper, tears falling off her jaw and down onto Clint's closed eyelids as she looked up at the two men now standing in her kitchen.
She knew those faces – she had worked with them often in the past, and even though the Avengers Initiative had now been disbanded, Clint had remained close friends with them ever since. So when Natasha had heard that it was these friends Clint had invited out with him that night, she had been sure he would be safe. She had obviously been wrong.
Steve Rogers, more commonly known to the world as Captain America, was the first to step forward, placing a reassuring hand on Natasha's elbow. He knew the pain of finding a loved one injured and dying – it was something that had stalked him all his life, both as a soldier in the Second World War and as a super-soldier, fighting with the Avengers. But despite his compassion, Natasha did not want his sympathy, and she was quick to shrug him off, once more demanding to know what had happened to her lover.
"It was at the bar," Steve began, stepping away from the devastated woman, "and Clint was going to get drinks when someone came up to him. A man, in his mid-twenties – normal looking guy. He began to get a bit pushy, but we knew Clint could take care of himself, so we didn't interfere. A few minutes later, and he was gone. Both of them."
"This man must have recognized him as Hawkeye," stated the second man, moving to stand beside Steve. Tony Stark was never one to show any deep emotion, but the way he looked down on Clint's motionless body, it was clear to see the sorrow and regret that shimmered in his eyes. Without his suit of armour, Tony was just a human, like Clint, and it hurt him to see his friend so broken.
"When we noticed he was missing, we immediately tried to track him down, but it was more difficult than we imagined. Clint…he'd had a few drinks, and by the time we found him in the alleyway out the back, he was already losing the fight. The attacker quickly fled, but we managed to slip a tracking chip onto him first – we assume he must be a part of some organization to assassinate the Avengers, while we're off-duty. His fighting was incredible, and…" Tony's voice faded out as his eyes traced over Clint's wounds.
Natasha tried to suppress the sobbing, but with one look down at her lover, they ripped out her chest before she could hold them back. Breaking down, she pressed her brow to Clint's shoulder, inhaling his scent and trying desperately to ignore the blood that laced it, thick and metallic. How could Clint - Hawkeye, the world's most skilled assassin- be taken down and reduced to such a frail, pitiful state? Natasha had never felt so vulnerable and weak as she did in her grief, but she guessed that was the price to be paid, for love.
"Should've brought his bow," she heard Tony murmur, "you never know what could happen."
At this comment, Natasha looked up, anger flaring up once again within her. Leaving Clint behind, she leapt forward, grabbing Tony's shirt in her fists and shoving him against the kitchen wall forcefully.
"He never expected to get attacked!" she snarled, slamming the stunned Tony back once again as he tried to calm her, "Of course he didn't take his bow!"
"Natasha…" Steve murmured, placing a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to pull her away from their friend. But with one glare in his direction, he quickly recoiled, knowing far too well how dangerous the Black Widow could be when riled.
"All I'm saying is he should have brought some means to defend himself!" Tony argued, raising his hands in surrender as he too feared what Natasha, a now grief-stricken assassin, could do. But his words did him no favors, and instead proved to anger the woman more.
"He didn't expect to get attacked! Not on this night!"
Silencing the man's questions, Natasha thrust her hand before Tony's face, allowing his eyes to focus on the glistening ring which crowned her fourth finger.
"Not on the night before his wedding!"
The word had barely left her lips before the truth of it hit her, like a knife in her heart. Wedding. Tomorrow, her and Clint Barton would be getting married…but not anymore. Not now that Clint was so gravely injured. Stumbling back, Natasha let go of her grip on Tony's shirt, and staggered back once again to the table upon which her fiancé lay.
"You were getting married?"
Nodding, Natasha finally allowed Steve's strong arm to wrap about her middle, supporting her as she continued to sob despairingly. She could feel it all crashing down around her: all the planning, the hopes, the dreams for their wedding day and the days that would follow. Their whole future together – proper, normal, human lives to spend peacefully, side-by-side…it was all gone. How could she have believed that they would ever achieve that kind of freedom? They were bound to their work - to killing - and now it had taken the only happy thing in her life away from her.
"He's not gone yet," Steve reassured her, as if he could read her thoughts, "but he'll need time to recover. I suggest we take him back to the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters – it's somewhere he'll be safe and can receive the best medical care. Tony – call Fury."
"I'm on it." Tony had already pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number, "You stay here, Cap, until your ride gets here. I'll head back to Stark Tower and suit up, and catch that son-of-a-bitch that we tagged earlier."
Tony spoke quickly, urgently, into his cell, demanding for S.H.I.E.L.D's best medical service to come and collect their fallen comrade. The call was over in a matter of seconds, but before Tony took his leave, he pressed a kiss to Natasha's brow, and spoke to her alone.
"I'm so sorry. We should have protected him, and we should have known…" he glanced down quickly at the ring that Natasha wore, "But I'll catch the man who did this, and we'll bring him to justice. Hey, it's our job."
With one final glance as Clint's unconscious figure, Tony Stark was gone.
Comforted, if only a little, by the knowledge that help was on the way, Natasha wiped the tears from her cheeks, and gathered her composure as much as she could. Under Steve's watchful eye, she steadily made her way around the table, perching herself on the edge and raising Clint's head onto her lap. Pushing his hair from his brow, she was careful not to touch any of the open wounds, before leaning down to touch her lips to Clint's.
"I'm here my love. You're going to be alright, I promise you. I'm going to look after you. I love you, Clint."
Black Widow/Hawkeye fiction inspired by their romance as seen in The Avengers.

Hope you like it!
© 2012 - 2024 GypsyMaid
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OnatilopanxNiatpac's avatar
RIGHT IN THE FEELS.
You are just out to kill all of my feels, aren't you.