"Hawkeye."

"You can stop right there 'Tasha. I don't want to hear it."

"I-"

"You're dead to me."

Dead.

Dead to me.

You're dead to me.

Clint's words resounded in Natasha's head, echoed and beat against her consciousness.

He hates me.

Me.

We were partners once.

Friends, even.

And now...

Damn you, Fury.

Natasha walked down the corridor, away from Clint's accusations. Outwardly, she stayed stoic and emotionless. But. As she walked, she felt searing pain as the words, "You're dead to me" traced themselves on her heart.

Damn you, Fury.

Damn you.

"Come with me."

"I can't. I'm an Avenger. They're my partners now."

As Natasha sprinted away, she could still feel the impression of Clint's lips on hers.

He knows the truth.

I don't have to lie anymore.

He can believe in me again.

And finally, finally, the words on her heart lifted and disappeared. Her sleepless nights and torturous days were over. She could breathe again.

Shaking off her elated state of mind, Natasha focused on her next objective: locating the missing Nick Fury. She supposed it was ironic that she was now searching for the very man who, albeit indirectly, caused her previous heartache.

Oh well.

She smiled.

I suppose the universe is contradictory in matters such as these.

Like an assassin, a trained killer, cold and unfeeling, falling for an archer: cocky, inappropriate, clad in idiotic colors, and wearing a towel over his-

Natasha quietly stifled a chuckle.

Ridiculous man.

But I'm not dead to him anymore.

We will meet again.

And on she ran, hair waving red down her back, lips still tingling.

I will see him again.

And, perhaps, she'll cross paths with him sooner than she realizes.