It's baaack! With its last and final chapter. If you've been following this story since its beginning some odd months ago, I'd like to just bring you in for a group hug, because you've had to put up with my less than regular updates. I hope you didn't think I abandoned you! The lesson here, kids, is to not take on three stories at a time.

Anyway, I've wanted this story to wind down to a close for a while now. But in the spirit of our two master assassins, they aren't going out without a fight. Literally.

I don't own Marvel, etc.

"I hope you're ready for the shit storm you unleashed, Clinty, because the Circus is coming to town."

It had been three days since his brother forebodingly suggested a looming counterattack by the Circus Gang for the murder of their Ring Leader. But with each passing day, the likelihood of an attack lowered. Three days of guarding windows, keeping watch, taking sleeping shifts, and all around paranoia seemed to be for nothing. Or so they hoped.

Neither of them had mentioned the kiss since that day, but their relationship had silently morphed into an even more intimate affair. They sat in the living room, entangled on the couch that has served his bed while she recovered. His arm was wrapped around her waist, securing her tightly to his side, and her legs were curled around his as she rested her head on his shoulder. Suddenly, the television cut to black, the hum of the air conditioning unit died down, and all the lights switched off.

"Did Barney do something to the power?" she asked as the house was plunged into near darkness, the only light stemming from the nearly hidden sun quickly dipping below the horizon.

"Barney isn't home," he jumped to his feet. He made a slit in the curtains to peak out into the neighborhood. "It's just us."

"Fuck," she growled, propelling herself off the couch. She rushed to the old piano his mother used to play religiously- it was one of the few things they had left to remember her by- and pushed the cover off kilter, revealing the inner workings of the instrument. From inside, she pulled a pistol, a bow, and a small sheath of arrows.

"Grab the grenade too," he told her as he secured the sheath around his body.

"The what?" she exclaimed as she checked the ammo on her weapon.

"The smoke grenade," he specified, "It should be next to the shotgun."

She reached back inside the piano and retrieved the small canister. "This is one hell of a stock pile, Barton," she snorted, cocking her gun.

"You should see the attic," he smirked briefly before re-covering the piano. The clanging metal of the fence guarding their property caused them both to freeze for a moment, listening to judge the numbers of their incoming attackers. They estimated at five.

"Well this isn't much of a fair fight," she whispered with a grin as they fell into position. Darkness would be their ally. And with the sun almost completely gone, darkness is what they had. She was nearly invisible as she shrunk down next to the opening of the half wall, her back towards the kitchen, guns at the ready.

"They never are," he chuckled quietly from his perch on the stair railing as he took aim down the hallway,

"Nat," he whispered after a moment so quietly that she almost didn't hear it.

"Yeah?" she replied in an equally low tone.

"Try not to get shot is time."

A small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips for a moment before her composure returned, and offered a slight nod in return.

The shriek of glass shattering in the kitchen was followed by the slam of the back door swinging to hit the wall. She tilted her her to peer from behind the half wall, and she saw a number of men, dressed from head to toe in black, march into their house."You think they're home?" they heard one of the black-clad men ask.

"Shut the fuck up, Donnie," the fourth one in the door hissed back, "They're home."

She glanced over to the staircase, where the archer was crouched, bow ready and arrow in hand. Taking a deep but silent breath, she reached beside her for he smoke grenade. She mouthed the countdown to him before pulling the pin and tossing it down the hallway.

"Hey what was-"

Smoke erupted from the canister and in moments the entire kitchen was clouded in the thick gas. A loosed arrow zoomed into the smoky room, and a deep grunt signaled a hit. In the next second, another arrow was released, receiving the same results. But before the third arrow was let, a thud from the floor above jolted the archer from his focus. He dropped back and looked to the girl with the guns across from him.

"Go!" she mouthed to him as footsteps began to sound. He nodded and raced upstairs to take care of the other intruders. As her archer disappeared upstairs, she heard the remaining men in the kitchen move about.

"You two," she heard one of them growl a whisper, "check the next room." The two men did as they were ordered and they quickly advanced on her position.

When the first man unknowingly arrived to her location, he was greeted with a swift uppercut to his chin. Before her attack had even registered with the now disoriented man, she grabbed his body and whipped around 180 degrees to face the other end of the hallway.

The man's chest serviced as a decent shield from the wild rounds being shot by his accomplice. She only needed to return fire once, landing a direct headshot. As the body at the end of the hall dropped, she released the dead weight in her arms and let that body sink to the floor.

As she approached the kitchen, the smoke was beginning to thin. A wild arm swung out to meet her as she entered the room, but she was expecting it. She ducked, jutting her elbow out to catch her attackers stomach. When he buckled over, she slammed the butt of her pistol between his shoulder blades. Her eyes searched the room for others in the now only slightly smoky room, but she was alone minus the two arrow stricken bodies beside the table.

Suddenly, there was an arm wrapped tightly around her neck, closing off her airway as it jerked her off the floor. She swing her feet forward and brought them back to connect with her attackers left kneecap. One satisfying crunch later, they both fell to the floor, where she wriggled out of the chokehold. With a growl, she embedded a bullet in the man's brain; which is what she should have done ten seconds ago. Then two shots resonated from upstairs.

"Shit," she jumped, darting towards the staircase, maneuvering over the two bloodied bodies sprawled across the hall. Another shot chimed from the second floor as she took the steps two at a time.

Laying dangling over the banister at the top was a man with an arrow protruding from his back. Another man ten feet away was similarly injured in the chest, with the upper portion of his body propped up against the wall. She stepped over the dead man's legs and cautiously turned the corner. A close-ranged bullet whizzed by her head; the man who fired it was only three feet in front of her. Springing into action, she took the man by the wrist and pounded it into the wall beside them, causing him to release the weapon from his hand and let it fall to the ground. Without pausing, she kicked her legs up and locked her thighs around the man's neck. Then she jerked her body downward, sending him flipping to the ground.

As she unhooked her legs from the toppled over man, another bullet rushed past her, this time just grazing her arm. She rolled to the side and fired two rounds towards the staircase. The sound of the man tumbling to the floor below followed. She and her archer had seriously underestimated the level to which the Circus wanted them dead; her count was at nine men down. Speaking of which, she had yet to see him since he disappeared up here. With fresh worry, she used the wall to pull herself up, determined to find him alive.

But as she stood, she failed to notice the man she toppled to the ground had returned to his feet until his fist connected with her side, disturbing the not-quite-healed wound from the grocery store shootout. With a pained cry she collapsed to the ground, and the man, quite pleased with himself, loomed over her, aiming the gun between her eyebrows. "Say goodbye!"

A shout from the end of the hallway distracted the gunman momentarily, and he turned just in time to see the arrow barreling towards his eye.

"Goodbye," she spat ironically through gritted teeth as the body hit the floor, grasping her side as she moved to sit up. She peered up at her archer momentarily before returning her eyes to her side. "Is that all of them?"

"I think so," he grunted, yanking the arrow from the dead man's eye socket before kneeling beside her. But she knew him too well to let that tone of voice pass, and she could tell he was trying to hide something. Her eyes moved upwards to his face and, in the almost non-existent light, she could see the slight scrunch of his mouth and his eyes squeezed tightly together like miniature clamps.

"Clint," her voice was worried but almost teasing, in a way only she could be, as she moved to her knees, "where'd you get hit?"

"Left shoulder," he admitted, dropping his bow and resting his head against the wall.

"You're shooting arm?" she gasped.

"Yeah.

""When-"

"The first guy I came across- the one on the railing," he chuckled darkly as he shook his head. "Hurt's like a bitch, too."

She allowed herself to smile softly as she pulled herself to her feet, then offered a arm to her injured partner on the ground,

"And here I thought the 'don't get shot' was a mutual declaration."

He barked a short laugh and accepted the help to his feet, clasping her forearm with his good arm. "Well that was my intention, but you know, 'the best laid plans...'"

"Alright, Robert Burns," she quipped with a smirk, "Go lie down."

"Aye aye, Captain Romanoff." He would have mock saluted but as he went to raise his arm, he remembered the bulled nestled in his shoulder and instead just ambled into the bedroom. She rolled her eyes as she stepped over the various bodies covering the now deeply stained carpet. Carefully, he settled himself into the bed. A hiss escaped his lips as his back connected with the mattress. At least this was better than the couch.

With full arms, she barged into the room. She pulled something out of her mouth and handed it to him, "Keep the flashlight steady."

He flicked the switch. As he was instructed, he kept the circle of light directly over the wound as she worked to remove the bullet.

"Quit fidgeting, Barton," she ordered, tearing away his shirt for a better access point.

"Hsss- sorry," he sucked in a breath, "Do you- ah- still have the three thousand dollars?"

"Mhmm," she nodded, deep in concentration.

"Do you think you could get more?"

She glanced at him sideways before returning her eyes to the wound, "Yeah... What are you planning?"

"Let's- ow, watch it!," he exclaimed when something was tugged the wrong way.

"Shhh," she quieted him, repositioning his hand so she had better light, "What were you saying?"

"I was thinking that we should skip town- ow! Jesus, Nat!" She waved the tweezers with the bullet between their tongs in front of his eyes and grinned smugly. But then the smile faded as she took a moment to think over his proposal.

"Leave?" she inquired. It was a merited plan; what was left for them here? Family certainly wasn't. Not to mention that once the Circus caught wind of this little fiasco, an even steeper price would be demanded for their heads. And it would be simple enough to just pack up his car and leave for god knows where. She had been wanting to leave this retched town since before she can remember. In fact, the only thing that had kept her tethered here was, well... him.

"Yeah, well, I mean-" he began to blabber, mistaking her tone for skepticism and rejection.

"Okay," she shrugged, pulling him upright to a sitting position so she could bandage the wound.

"Okay?" he repeated doubtfully.

"Why not? We're not safe here. And besides, dumping the nine bodies would be a hassle," she added with a light smile.

"Nine?" his eyebrows shot up.

"Yeah, something about you killing a mob boss didn't go over very well," she snorted.

"I'm flattered," he smirked as his confidence returned, a little too proud that the nearly 5:1 ratio still played out in their favor, "not that it did them much good."

She chuckled as she finished dressing the wound. Once the bandage was securely wrapped, she pushed herself off the bed and began rummaging around the room.

"Bags are on the top shelf in the closet," he reminded her absentmindedly as he reached for a fresh shirt in a pile on his desk and pulled it over his head.

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and pulled a duffle bag out from the closet. "What's already in the car?"

He scratched at his temple as he attempted to remember what was residing in his trunk, "Uh, my good bow, sixteen arrows, three- no four pistols, two boxes of ammo, a decent amount of knives, and maybe a shotgun. Oh and a case of beer."

"Alright, take this bag," she tossed him the camouflage duffle, "and stuff some clothes into it. My backpack should be by the bed somewhere; move all the stuff from it into that one. When you're done, bring it to the car. I'll go downstairs and grab some food for the road because I want to get out of the state before-" The warm pressure of his lips against her's silenced her aloud thinking process. It wasn't urgent or fiery or burning with intensity like their first; it was soft, gentle, and intimately tender. Then he pulled away- much too soon for her liking. "What was that for?" she asked with a timid smile, her eyes glowing softly against the moonlight streaming into the room.

He smiled at the question as he used his thumb to brush a stray hair from her face; even in this light, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on."For going along with this," he replied with a growing grin.

She halfheartedly rolled her eyes as her smile stretched lopsidedly to one side."Yeah, okay, meet me downstairs in five minutes," she held his gaze for a moment before ducking under his arm and darting out of the room.

With a sigh, he threw the bag onto his desk and began packing it with the first t-shirts and jeans he could grab- which was all his wardrobe consisted of. He pulled his leather jacket from its hook and he carefully shrugged into it. After he got the sleeve around his wounded arm, he located her bag. Deciding it would be redundant to unpack her things just to repack them, he stuffed the entire backpack into the other half of the duffle bag. From the bookshelf, he took the framed picture of his parents sitting on the second shelf from the top. After a minute of unsuccessfully attempting to open the back of the frame, he elected to shatter the glass by means of smashing it against the corner of the desk. He then slid the picture out if its now damaged frame and pushed it into his jacket pocket. He did a final once-over of the room before deciding he was content with the items he packed. He wasnt going to miss this place, not one bit. The bag zipped easily and he slung it over his good shoulder.

But as he moved towards the door, a glint from something on the nightstand caught his eye. Upon further inspection, it was the aged photograph, the one with the colors washed and the paper thinning. A smile smile tugged at his lips as he stared at the younger, innocent versions of himself and his best friend. He took the picture from its place propped against the lamp and slid it into the same pocket where the one of his parents currently lodged.

"I checked the perimeter: were clear. Let's go," she told him as he sauntered downstairs.

Smirking back, and tossed her the keys- which she caught effortlessly in one hand- as he stepped out the door, "You drive."

With her hand on the doorknob, she spared one last glimpse at the house that served as her home for the past week. It was the first home she had in years. But now it was just a glorified graveyard; bodies were crumpled, sprawled, and collapsed throughout the darkened interior. Now it was just a house again.

"You coming?" he called to her as he slammed the trunk shut with one arm, pulling her from her thoughts.

But then she realized, the thing that made this stack of wood and roofing tiles a home was leaving with her. And suddenly, leaving became the greatest decision she had ever made.

"Yeah," she whispered to herself with a satisfied smile. She swung the door shut behind her and strolled over to the drivers seat. When the key met the ignition, the engine roared to life before settling down to a purr. "Any particular destination in mind, Hawk?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"Anywhere."

That brings us to the end, folks! I hoped you enjoyed the ride. It got a little mushy towards the end, and maybe even a little clichèd, but I'm happy with it. Maybe if I find the muse, I'll write these two a short epilogue.

And thank you guys again, for taking the time read, critique, favorite, and follow this story. I couldn't have done it without your support.

With much love,

hawkeyethehotguy