Mr. and Mrs. Barton

Natasha:

Clint picked the mall, and Natasha had to agree with him. The place had multiple levels and many hidden places for the both of them. Though bad if from the other angle, the both of them knew the mall fairly well and could defend it.

The others would be on the offensive, and while they had numbers, her and Clint had the high ground.

Theoretically.

Though she knew things didn’t always go according to plan, she’s starting to think that definitely counted with Clint, some things did go. Especially when the plan was well thought out with multiple contingencies. It just has to work. She didn’t go through all of this just to die in a hail of bullets.

Thought that would be a great way to go.

She grabs a suit to cover the body armor. There’s no need to let the people coming after them to know that they had more than just skin and cloth protecting their insides. She quickly finds one in Clint’s size and throws it his way.

He looks confused, but is already throwing the outfit on over top the full suited body armor that they had picked up at the warehouse earlier (there hadn’t been anything in there to actually fit her, but the armor was close). She missed her own suit, but knew what she had on would have to do. If they survive this, she’ll get herself something that fits better. Who knew when someone would come after them again?

After dressing, they pass through the cooking utensils and she grabs a few knives. She passes a handful to Clint, knowing that long range weapons were more his thing and having some knives to throw would be good to go with his bow and guns. Yes, the idiot brought his bow. Speed would be of necessity, but all he did was smirk when she brought it up.

“I need my trademark.” He winked when he threw the bow onto his back. At least he had grabbed a couple of guns as well.

The plan was to start from the top and move downward. Once they take out the top layer, they can move downward to the basement level to escape. It was a suicide mission, but one that she was willing to go on. They can’t move forward with their lives if they were always looking back.

Also, this was the only option they had. They could only run so far from these specific people. More would always be coming after them, but this would be the bulk of their problems.

She breaks one of the men’s necks and Clint deftly breaks another one. Outnumbered and outgunned, the best way of attacking is by silence. They had to eliminate as many of the enemy as possible. She blames Clint for fumbling in her way for the knife hitting his leg.

He glares, but just pulls it out for use later. At least it wasn’t a kill throw.

Shooting from overhead has them both duck down and Natasha leading the way to the elevators, Clint covering her back in their unexpected retreat. “That was close.” Clint mumbled as he flicked through his arrows, as though deciding which one would be the best the next time the door opens. He picks one, even though Nat can’t really tell the difference between them.

“Not really.” She’s been in closer circumstances, and has lived through them. Though Clint seems to be the more inexperienced of the two when it comes to close cases. His specialty was killing from a distance, while hers was usually more close and personal.

He puts the arrow at the ready, and she realizes this is the first time he actually took out his bow. Earlier, he had used the guns to cover their backs or the very unbalanced knives. The knives had hit every target, though. She could be impressed with that.

There’s a slight change in the air, and she readies for the doors to slide open. She gets a few shots off, and so do the outsiders, but Clint releases one arrow that explodes on impact. The doors have just shut when he shrugs at her accusing look. Why didn’t he tell her what those things could do? “A level 2 exploding arrow. Five might take down this building. I haven’t used it yet.”

All of the arrows looked the same to her, so she would have to take his word on it. They each had their own expertise, and his seemed to be pushed towards that archaic weapon he is so fond of.

The bottom floor. The live or die floor.

“I go high, and you go low.” Natasha gives the order to him, already getting ready for the ambush about to happen.

Clint just shakes his head. “I’m long range. I’ll go high.” The loaded arrow is pointed slightly up, and she points her weapons lower. He does have a point.

The doors open and they step out, shooting down the enemies that were circling them on all sides. Clint was firing arrows at a speed she wouldn’t believe possible, and she was taking down every one of them that her bullets hit. Everything is going fine. Better than fine, really.

Until it doesn’t.

The two of them had been separated, Clint climbing on the bare boards of the ceiling and taking out targets from there as she kept the focus on her. Someone must have realized the threat that he was, because he was falling from his perch.

Instinct, nothing else, drove her to cover him and pull the archer towards the storage closet they had made note of early on. Of a just in case exit strategy.

She hadn’t thought they would need to use it.

She shoves him in the room first and jumps in behind him, barely remembering to close the door behind her. No sight lines for the enemy.

“Clint.” She pulls at his clothes, and he’s already grumbling and pulling off his shirt.

“Just clipped.” He’s reaching for her, and she can’t quite understand why he looks so worried. He’s the one that was hit. “You?”

Natasha looks down at her shirt, almost completely torn to shreds by the amount of bullets that hit it. A very good thing they decided to put on body armor then. “No hits.”

She sees blood on his left arm and right leg. He was injured which changes the plan. The original plan had both of them either dying or escaping in one piece.

“Good.” His voice drags her thoughts away from plans and exit strategies. “You can get out.”

What? What in the world was he talking about? Did he seriously think she’d leave him behind? After everything? “No.”

Clint:

Clint knows he’s hurt, and that means the chances of both of them escaping alive just went down to something like 0.0001%. But one person escaping to live another day? Pretty high up. Especially if that other person is Nat. She hasn’t been hit. By all reasoning, she should be able to escape and start a new life at SHIELD.

He’s an old man who shoots a bow. Of the two of them, she needs to be able to live. She has the chance to keep fighting. She has the…

“No.” Nat answers him, and he feels like another piece of hope he had was destroyed. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

She has to! Doesn’t she understand? “I’ve been hit, Nat. My response time will be slower.” Which leads back to the problem. Most likely he won’t be able to make it out.

Nat suddenly grabs his hands and his eyes move from focusing on the door to her face. “For better or worse.” What is she talking abo…Their wedding vowels? “I promised you on that day, as you did for me.”

Well, he also promised that to Bobbi. He knows how well that turned out.

“You can escape.” Clint has to get her to leave, to give her the second chance that Phil gave him all those years ago. Nat deserves that. “To start over. A new life.” Without him, but that can be either a plus or negative at this point if he thinks about it.

He can see her rolling her eyes, and knows whatever she’ll say won’t be what he wants. “Not without you, durak.”

He holds her hands in his, and he can hear the bullets outside the door coming at a near steady pace. Their protection won’t stand up for long. “I love you.” She helps him to his feet, and they each get ready for the firefight of their life.

Just before pushing the door open, she turns to him to have the last word. “Love is for children.”

Nat throws the door open and Clint shoots two arrows out. One to shroud the place in smoke, and the other to give off a high pitch sound. One to distort sight and the other to just plain disorient. Clint has Nat’s back and she has his.

The shoot down the people that were coming after them, dodging the bullets that were heading their way. They don’t count. They don’t think. They move together in a dance that they never had done before; each of them knowing how the other is going to move before they have the chance to do so.

Partners in every sense of the word.

The dust and smoke finally clears so they can look about at their handiwork. Bodies had fallen from various places in their death, and some hung from where gravity has yet to drag them down. It was chaotic. It was painful and bloody. Things were broken that could never be fixed again.

But sometimes the most broken could do the most saving, because they know how to put themselves back together.

Clint knew what it was like to be broken, and looking at Nat, so did she. Together, their edges could fit together and makes things not seem so destroyed.

They were safe, together.

And Clint was already working on a plan to keep it that way.