Hello

Okay so I had written about five stories on the Avengers and I began to hate every single one of them so I deleted them. It didn't feel like I'd written and story, it felt like it was just words dragging on and on, so I'm going to be trying to be more descriptive and actually enjoy my story when I re-read them. Wish me luck!

Advice is always appreciated by anyone!

I remember being a murderer since I was just a little girl. I'm not sure why I did it, nor how, since everything that I did was just a foggy memory which I don't know why. I just remember the face of my victims, how their eyes widened when I attacked or their screams that haunted my dreams every night. I was a trained assassin in Russia, as the Black Widow, along with other young girls, teenagers and women. I was praised, as I was the most successful woman there, my life expectancy higher than the rest. Us women were sent on various missions to kill people who are a 'threat' to our agency.

All I knew of my family was that they were killed in a fire and I was the survivor who was rescued.

Only later in my life did I discover that I had been brainwashed, tortured and forced into things my entire life. My whole life was a blur because of the people who didn't give a damn if I came back dead or alive, as long as I completed the mission. My childhood was stolen from me. I was a seducer by the age of fourteen and gave myself away to dirty men, losing my memory of the night each time.

I discovered this information when I met a certain man who saved my life, Clint Barton. He saved me from my own fait and my own death. This is the story that formed our bond, friendship and most importantly, love.

I remember walking down a dark ally, headed to my next mission, which was just around the block. I knew someone was following me. I could take care of him easy. A robber? Rapist? Pfft, what a joke, I could take them down within a second. I smiled to myself, continuing to walk to the end of the ally where I turned the corner and pressed myself against the wall, waiting. When my predators figure emerged I swung my fist, but to my surprise it was caught a split second before it made contact with his face. The unknown man twisted my arm behind my back, and before I could make a move, he injected me in the neck with drugs and the last thing that I saw was the blurry image of a tall man with sandy hair and blue-green eyes, and expression of efficiency on his face.

I didn't know how much time had passed, days, weeks, months? Who knows. It felt like I had been out for a whole lifetime. Maybe I had? Oh well, as long as I didn't have to complete another stupid mission that meant nothing to me at all. I was in a dark room, the only light was right above me like you see in movies. How original. I was sitting in a chair, my wrists tied behind my back, my ankles tied to the chair legs, my waist tied to the chair as well as my knees. This man really was afraid of losing me, I guess. I pulled the ropes at my wrists. They were tight, but not tight enough. I had been through training to get myself out of these types of situations. I began twisting my wrists out of the ropes, when a figure emerged into the light.

"Here, let me get that for you." The man spoke in Russian, but it sounded strange, as if he learnt it over night. He walked slowly over to me, hands in the air as if to show he was innocent. I watched him the entire time as we walked behind me, unbounding my wrist and every other tied up part of me. He tried his hardest not to touch me, but when he was about to unbind my waist, he stood in front of me.

"What are you waiting for?" I hissed at him in English. He chuckled.

"Do you really think I'm going to untie you that easily? I know who you are, Natasha Romanoff. I know what you are capable of. And even with this knowledge, I am willing to negotiate." He left for a few seconds and came back with a chair, placing it in front of me. "How old are you?"

I raised my brow at the random question. What was this man playing at? "I am twenty two next month." I replied coldly.

"Incorrect. You only just celebrated your nineteenth birthday two months ago." Shit. When I didn't reply, he cleared his throat and placed his hands on his knees. "Now, about this negotiation."

"I refuse." I said coldly.

"You haven't heard what I was going to say?" He laughed again. He was always laughing at me. I felt like a fool. He could see right through me, he knew everything about me and more. I thought about this for a minute.

"Proceed."

"I am a spy from S.H.I.E.L.D. I am sure you've heard of us. I was sent here on a mission to kill you. You've caused quite the drama at our facility, we wanted you gone. Until I saw how young you were. Just a girl."

"I am not just a girl." I knew it was the truth, but I would not let him act as though I cannot take care of myself. What would he know? I'd been doing it my entire life!

"Okay. But you are young. You have so much life to live, but not here. Not working for who you are working with."

"So what is this negotiation?"

"You either surrender and come with me, I have a high chance of starting you a knew life at S.H.I.E.L.D. You will be working for good and not evil. You will learn the truth of your life and what happened to you. I will be by your side through the whole thing. I wont let anybody hurt you." I felt myself melt with these words. A knew life? Truth? Everything I ever wanted to know, at the hands of this man? But what if he's lying? What if its just a trap? Questions buzzed through my head, negative and positive.

"And what if I decline this offer?" as quick as a flash he pulled a gun out from behind him and pointed it at the centre of my forehead. I gasped, not used to someone being as skilled as me.

"I will kill you right here in this chair and go home and forget this ever happened." He lowered his gun, sympathy in his eyes. "Which is something I do not want to do." Letting out a sigh, he dropped his gun with a clatter and leant forward, his face close to mine.

"What is your name?" I whispered, not making eye contact with the only person who acted as though he cared about me.

"My name is Clint. Clint Barton." I could feel his eyes burning into my soul, and I knew every word he had said to me in this room was all absolutely true. He cared.

"Clint…" I sighed, closing my eyes and swallowing hard. It was finally over. "I accept."

When I opened my eyes, he had a smile playing at his lips. He held his hand out. "Do not shake, unless you are true to your word. Will you promise not to run when I release you from this chair?"

I considered this for a moment. I could get away easy. Smack him on the head before I shake, knock him out and run. Run back to the nightmare where everything was a blur. Or, shake his hand, walk side-by-side with this man who I hardly know and become a new person, have a new life.

"I promise." I held out my own hand, shaking his, signing my life over to this man who seemed so confident that I could be good. He smiled before standing from his chair, slowly untying the last rope that held me down. I stood slowly, considering the run. No! you promised, Natasha. He looked at me right in the eye, begging me not to betray him. I could see the hope, and knew that he was my saviour. "Where are we heading?"

He sighed in relief, rubbing his eyes. "Um, home, I guess." He chuckled at himself, not at humour but at happiness.

"I haven't got my stuff."

"No need, you'll have a whole knew wardrobe and necessities once we get you to base." I looked at the ground, smiling as my red curls bounced around my face. "What?" he asked.

"I'm just so happy to be getting away from here. Just promise me you'll always help me when I need you?" I looked up into his eyes, a clear blue-green swimming with excitement.

"I promise."

We made our way out into the cold night. I was only wearing a short red dress, and I wrapped my arms around myself in hope for warmth. Clint offered me his jacket, which I refused but he placed on my shoulders anyway. We took a private jet home, which presumably was meant only for him after he killed me. When he announced that I would be going on the plane with him, the pilots looked almost shocked but refused to look at me. They were afraid of me. The inside of the plane was a simple shade of cream, the chairs, the walls, all blending with each other. There were a few rows of seats, and I chose the very back corner to sit in. Clint walked out of the bathroom, drying his hands and face with a towel.

"Uh, there's only one room. You can have it, thought. I'll sleep out here." He gestured to the seats, which to be honest, were very uncomfortable. I shook my head, sending my curls swaying around my face in a blur of red.

"No. You've done enough for me. I'll stay out here, I like the view anyway." He sighed, nodding.

"You can have a shower if you want. There are spare clothes already in there. I ordered them before we boarded. Dinner will be served shortly. See you soon." He walked down the isle, closing his bedroom door behind him with a clink. I curled up into a ball and let everything sink in. What if this was some kind of sick joke? Maybe the food is poisoned and they wanted me dead and unharmed on the outside. What if I am ambushed as soon as I get of this plane? Shot? Stabbed? What if they torture me for information, in all the worst ways they know possible? No, no, relax. Clint promised, I promised. Nothing was going to happen. I am starting a new life. No more innocent blood spilt on my hands, only evil. I'm helping the world.

I nearly fell out of my seat when I heard his door open again.

"I just spoke with Phil, he's in charge of most of the important stuff alongside the director. He's organised to land the plane in the emergency runway so no one will see you until ready. He said you do have a chance of becoming an agent pretty quickly due to your skill, but you will be on parole for a while." He explained, taking a seat two seats away from me. I just nodded. Of course I'd need to be on parole, I was their enemy not even a day ago.

"Will you be with me the whole time?" at these words he lowered his head. I felt my heart beat faster. I was going to be alone in a place I knew nothing about where everyone hated me and wanted me dead.

"Phil needs to talk with Director Fury. They believe that the reason why I saved you instead of killing you was because I had feelings for you. And relationships cannot get in the way of our work."

"But there isn't a relationship? Or feelings of any sort?"

"They don't know that, and it would be hard to prove. I'm going to have to do a lot to allow me to help you in the beginning. Just remember that I will always be watching."

These words made my heart beat faster and I was afraid he would be able to hear it. I looked away, afraid he'd see the pink my cheeks began to turn. I was used to being alone, but I was usually used to the place I was alone in. I was no longer in Russia, I was now somewhere I don't even know. No information was given as to where we were heading, and I couldn't blame them for their precautions of me. I wouldn't trust me.

"Dinners ready." He mumbled in the awkward silence. A few seconds after he spoke, a woman came out pushing a trolley, which had a roast chicken with side dishes and wine. Fabulous. I waited until Clint took the first bite, just to be sure nothing unexpected would appear. He seemed to notice how I watched him take a bite out of everything before I did.

"Natasha, it is not poisoned! I will never harm you, okay? Trust me." I stared into his eyes, full of honesty.

I trusted those eyes.