A few notes on the story: each chapter begins with a flashback, it is almost completely written so updates should come every day, and I will put additional warnings at the top of each chapter as they apply.

This story is rated M for violence, mentions of past abuse, torture scenes, and later sexual content.

Please don't hesitate to review! I would love to hear what people think.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any characters/organizations/plotlines related to them. If I did, we'd have a lot more Black Widow and Hawkeye.

Moscow, Russia – 1993

The little girl stumbled down the hallway, rubbing her eyes. Her bright red curls stood in contrast to the white night gown she wore. She came to the end of the hall and reached up for the massive door handle. She stepped inside the dimly lit room and looked at the man behind the desk.

"Papa," she whispered.

The man at the desk stood up and walked to the girl, he looked worried. "Natalia," he said. "What is it?"

The little girl looked up at her father, "I had a bad dream."

The man bent down and looked into her tear-filled green eyes, "I'll come tuck you in in a few minutes. Go back to bed for now."

She gave him a small smile and a big hug before nervously eyeing the other two men in the room, sitting across from her father. Then she walked out and returned to her room, crawling beneath the blankets and waiting for her father.

In the dim study, her father glared at the two men. "No," he declared. "You cannot take her. She is not right for the program."

The man on the left smirked, "Dr. Romanov, we can take her. And we will. It is only a matter of if you and your wife survive the…transaction."

"She's only six!" the doctor protested. "She is too sweet and gentle."

Now it was the man on the right's turn to smirk at the scientist, "She will be our greatest success."

When it appeared the doctor was going to continue to argue, the first man spoke up. "I heard your wife is expecting again… It would be a tragedy if something happened to her…"

The doctor paled and sat back in his seat.

The two men stood up.

"Thank you for your time Dr. Romanov. We'll send an agent over tomorrow to escort your daughter to our facility."

The two turned and left the room.

Dr. Romanov put his head in his hands and wept. After a few moments, he pulled himself together and stood up. He walked through the house until he reached his daughter's room.

She was sound asleep.

He shut the door quietly and sank to the ground.

"I am so sorry my little Natalia," he whispered.

Minsk, Belarus – 2007

Natasha smiled endearingly at the chubby man next to her. He took it as a sign to continue telling whatever mindless story he was engaged in. But the Black Widow wasn't listening. She scanned the room, looking for her mark.

There, across the room from her was the host of the party, flanked by his two bodyguards. General Yurij Padashoue was the head of the Belarusian army and had been a thorn in the Russian government's side for years. They had sent the best to take him out and Natasha was not going to fail.

Her escort for the evening dragged her attention back to him, "Nastia, dear?"

She smiled at him and nodded as he excused himself. "Urgent matters of state," he claimed.

Natasha began to work her way around the room, stopping and admiring the stately decorations every few feet or turning and observing the dancing couples, all the while moving closer and closer to her mark.

Grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, Natasha downed the liquid and stumbled towards the bodyguards drunkenly. She tripped into the burly men and let out a giggle, dropping the champagne glass. The man grabbed her roughly and moved to shove her away when the general reached out and stopped him.

Padashoue took Natasha by the arm and led her from the room. She continued to giggle drunkenly. Inside she was smirking as the target played right into her hands. "Let me help you," he said smoothly.

Natasha nodded and allowed herself to be pulled out of the party and into a private bedroom. The general leered at her as she collapsed onto the bed. He truly believed she was wasted. He shrugged off his jacket and moved towards the bed, tugging at his tie.

The man pressed his body on top of hers. She let out another giggle and flipped them over so she was on top as he pressed their lips together. Suddenly she had a knife pressed against his neck. Padashoue's eyes widened.

Natasha grinned at the man and reached for the gun that was attached to her thigh. She was going to make this as bloodless as possible. While putting a knife to someone's throat was an effective way to subdue them, slitting throats was messy.

The window in the bedroom shattered and Natasha dove out of the way on instinct. A blinking arrow was embedded in the bed right where Natasha had been moments before, narrowly missing Padashoue himself.

She jumped up and raced to the window, pulling out her gun. She scanned the rooftops around her and saw a man almost directly across from the building she was in. Natasha fired three shots at him in rapid succession then dove out of the way as another arrow entered the window and lodged into the floor.

Padashoue had managed to recover from his shock and stumbled out of the room, yelling for his bodyguards. The two arrows began to blink faster and faster. Natasha's eyes widened and she sprinted for the door swearing in Russian.

She threw open the door and dove for the stairs. Behind her, the room exploded. Natasha rolled down the stairs and into the room where the dancers were. They had all frozen for a moment when the explosion happened. Chaos erupted.

Natasha pushed herself off the floor and ducked into a side hall. She made her way out of the building and began hurrying to the apartment she was using as a base. Her mind was going a mile a minute but two thoughts were prevalent: one, she had failed in her assignment and two, someone had tried to kill her.

The first thought was the one that caused her the most worry at the moment. Her employers would not be happy when they found out about tonight's debacle. She had blown her cover and failed to kill Padashoue. It also appeared as though she had been compromised. They were already upset with her for her freelancing.

The second thought disturbed her more than it should have. Natasha was a professional and she should not be as upset about being a target as she was. She had no doubt those arrows were meant for her, the question was why the assassin didn't succeed in hitting her. Obviously he was a master archer, so why didn't he kill her?

When she was three blocks away from her apartment, Natasha's phone began to go off. She ducked into a back alleyway and answered.

"Widow," the low voice on the other end of the phone greeted her. "Has the target been neutralized?"

Natasha closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "No."

A long silence followed her answer. "What happened?" The man on the phone kept his voice even but Natasha knew he was angry.

"I had him and was about to complete the mission when someone interrupted us. He sent two arrows through the window and blew up the room," she explained tersely.

"Do you know who the attacker was?"

Natasha took a deep breath, "Hawkeye."

A second silence followed her words. "You have 24 hours Widow. Take care of the target and Hawkeye."

Natasha nodded, "Understood."

She leaned against the wall of the alley and took a few shaking breaths. The Black Widow bent her head and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to calm down. Now was not the time to panic.

Hawkeye ran across the rooftops, following the Black Widow as she fled the party. Usually, he would have taken any clear shot he had as he chased her through the city, but he wanted to see how she reacted now that she knew she was being targeted.

Clint Barton usually didn't torture his targets. He got in and he got out. But a savage part of him wanted to play with the Black Widow a bit. She deserved it and more based on what her file said. He was also a bit disconcerted that she had managed to take a couple shots at him earlier in the evening.

Clint nocked an arrow and drew his bow when the woman below him paused in an alley. She pulled out a cell phone and began speaking into it. Although he was two hundred yards away, Hawkeye could see the anger and worry on the Black Widow's face. This phone call obviously didn't help her situation.

Clint took a deep breath prepared to shoot when the Widow slumped against the wall in defeat. He paused, staring at the woman, studying her. After a few moments she pulled herself together and left the alley, glancing up as she left.

In the moment when Clint saw her face clearly, he was struck by how young this woman was. He had known she would be young, but no one knew the Black Widow's exact age. If he had to guess, he would have put her at maybe 20 years old.

Intrigued, Clint returned the arrow to his quiver and slung his bow across his back. With a sigh, he touched a finger to his ear before speaking.

"I'm going to need a few more days," he said calmly.

The earpiece crackled to life, "What happened?"

Clint sighed again, "I took a shot but she dodged it. She's fast. Then she made me."

"Where is she now?"

"On her way to her apartment."

There was a long pause before the man spoke again, "Hawkeye, take any shot you get."

Clint shook his head impatiently, "I can't. Not yet. There's something about her that makes me think she would be a good asset."

"No! You don't make that call. You go in, and you shoot the target. I decide who we bring in," the voice snarled.

"Coulson!" Clint snapped. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course." The response was instantaneous.

"Then trust me on this. If I can't convince her to turn or I realize I'm wrong I'll take her out. Until then, give me some more time."

"You have two days. What do you need from us?"

"I need everything you can get me on the Black Widow. I don't care if it's verifiable or just rumor. Get it to me ASAP," Clint said. "Also, how important is it that General Padashoue not be killed?"

A deep sigh echoed over the comms unit, "He's not your primary concern."

Clint nodded even though the other man—Coulson, he had called him—couldn't see it.

"Clint." It was the first time the man had used Hawkeye's code name in the conversation. "Not everyone can be saved. She might not want to come in. Are you prepared to take the shot if she refuses?"

"Let me know when you have information for me," Clint barked before turning off his earpiece. He didn't want to think about the answer to that question.

He jogged across the roofs of Minsk, careful to stay out of sight of the Black Widow. He stopped on a rooftop across from the building she entered.

Examining the building, he was a bit surprised. The first two floors were home to a dance studio and the top one had a few apartments. He peered through a window on the third floor and saw the woman enter her apartment, disarming several traps.

Clint realized that the apartment had two windows in it and both were uncovered. One was in the main room and kitchen area, the other in the bedroom. Either the Widow was incredibly confident, or she wanted to be killed. No sane assassin would choose to reside in such vulnerable areas. But he supposed the Black Widow wasn't exactly sane...

Natasha returned to her apartment and immediately began gathering her belongings. She knew she was working on an impossible deadline, but she had done the impossible before. However, she hadn't had to deal with Hawkeye before. She ran through what she knew of the man as she packed up her bags and changed into a pair of black pants with a black shirt and boots.

Hawkeye worked for SHIELD, an intelligence agency founded during the Cold War by the Americans that included much of the world. The idea was to act as a source of protection against any Russian (and Communist in general) plots and to be able to deal with any super-humans that appeared. Hawkeye joined them just over three years before. Before that he had been a contract assassin taking hits for anyone who could pay. His bow and arrow had become his signature. The running joke was that people heard the bullet that killed them, but not the arrow.

He had switched sides and Natasha didn't know why. Contract work definitely paid off. The most important piece of information was that Hawkeye had never missed a shot. Until tonight that is. Somehow, he missed her. Natasha didn't know why he missed her, maybe she was faster than he thought, or maybe he wasn't trying very hard.

As she strapped on her guns and bracelets—her Widow's Bites—Natasha shook thoughts of Hawkeye from her head. He was the secondary problem she had to deal with. Right now, she needed to eliminate Padashoue. It would be a challenge since he had seen her face and knew she was after him. She hoped, that by attacking immediately after the party she would have the element of surprise.

Natasha left the apartment, rearming a few of the traps she had set before leaving. The traps were simply to inconvenience anyone who came looking, she wouldn't be returning to the building.

Reaching the street, Natasha glanced around to make sure no one was watching. She didn't think to look at the rooftops, figuring Hawkeye wouldn't have been able to get down from the roof and follow her so quickly. Kneeling in the middle of the street Natasha opened a manhole cover into the sewers before dropping down and carefully replacing the cover from below.

From the rooftops above Clint watched his target lower herself into the street and disappear. Swearing, he took off for Padashoue's estate. He knew exactly where she was going.

"Hawkeye, report!"

Clint grimaced at the intrusion of noise in his ear, "The Black Widow just headed into the sewers. I believe she is on route to Padashoue's home. Something tells me I'm not going to get her before she kills him."

The man on the other end of the comms hesitated before responding, "It would be best if he were to remain alive. However, your primary mission is to eliminate the Black Widow as quickly as possible. So what happened at the party that left her alive?"

"She dodged," Hawkeye reported through clenched teeth. "She dodged my shot. She's good. And she's young... I need every scrap you can find on her because no one has ever dodged my arrow before."

"Hawkeye," Phil growled. "Don't do anything stupid. You know better than to get involved with a target. She may be young but that file I gave you listed all of her confirmed kills. There are more that are only rumored to be hers. She needs to be stopped. You're the only one that has a chance."

"But she could be a good—"

"No. I make the call when it comes to turning people to assets. Not you, Hawk. And she is too dangerous, too uncontrollable. It's a miracle the Russians still have her in their grasp. You know she freelances when they aren't using her. And you know she doesn't care who she works for, as long as she gets paid."

Hawkeye grit his teeth, he knew all of this, but there was something about her that was bothering him. He knew that she wasn't all bad. He had seen her moment of weakness and realized there was a person still inside. Hawkeye couldn't help it; he saw himself in her, the lost mercenary without a care in the world. There was nothing else he could do but kill for money, until SHIELD and Phil came and changed everything.

"Just get me the information," he demanded.

"Report when you have eyes on her again," Phil said before ending the conversation.

Hawkeye raced across the rooftops of Minsk wondering what to do. Wondering if he would get to Padashoue in time. Wondering if he would get to the Black Widow in time. It seemed possible that he would be able to convince her to join them. But he could be wrong, and then he would have to kill her.

Hawkeye arrived at Padashoue's estate about thirty minutes after he last saw the Black Widow. Everything seemed calm although there were far more guards than there would normally be. All of the curtains were drawn in the massive house and searchlights swept the courtyard and garden in a fixed pattern. The guards patrolling the edge of the estate were doing so in a pattern as well. Hawkeye rolled his eyes in exasperation as he watched one guard sit down in his position. Padashoue needed to learn that numbers didn't always count for more in a fight. There were multiple gaps in the security, which told Hawkeye that the chief of security was an idiot. When the Black Widow was hunting you didn't leave anything to chance.

Natasha levered herself up out of the sewers a block away from Padashoue's estate. She knew there was an entrance in his basement but until she had seen the kind of security around the place she wasn't going to risk getting caught inside without an escape route.

After surveying the building for a few moments she returned to the sewers to plan. The smell was terrible but Natasha didn't expect any birds to venture underground. After a few minutes of thought she moved deeper into the sewers always working her way to Padashoue's home.

Hawkeye pressed a button on his bow and felt his quiver whir as it spun to present a grappling arrow. He watched the estate for a moment longer before shooting the arrow to the roof of house and attaching the end of the rope to the roof he was on. He then used his bow to zip line across to the other roof. Anyone who looked up would have seen a shadow flying through the air. But no one did, as Hawkeye had become accustomed to, no one ever looked up when they should.

He landed soundlessly on the rooftop and made his way to the door that led inside. He made quick work of the lock and darted inside of the room. By now the sun as starting to rise. If he had to guess, he would say that the Black Widow had been given 24 hours to deal with Padashoue and at least lose him as a tail. It was a tight deadline and she wouldn't be waiting to make her move.

Creeping through the halls, he didn't notice another soul in the building, something he found incredibly odd since the outside was so heavily guarded. He began searching rooms and came across what were obviously Padashoue's office, library, sitting room, and dining room. There was no one inside any of them. The next room he searched was the bedroom. There wasn't any sign that he room had been disturbed since the morning when the bed had been made and the dishes taken out.

Hawkeye let out a slight chuckle as he realized what was going on. Padashoue wasn't here. His security wasn't as stupid as it looked; it was all a trap for the Black Widow. Hawkeye paused, he could warn her somehow and then take her out later, or he could let her walk into the trap and see what happens. He decided to wait and watch, something told him the Black Widow would escape this trap. The question was, would she be able to do it before her deadline was up?

Natasha emerged from the sewers for the second time that night reeking of rancid fish. God she hated using sewers, it was why she had chosen to take out Padashoue at the party instead of at his home. It was much easier to deal with someone when you weren't covered in sludge from whatever ran in the sewers. Natasha quickly scanned the room she was in. It was a simple concrete room; nothing had been done to it since it had been created. There wasn't even a security camera inside. She scoffed at Padashoue's idiocy, thinking he wouldn't be attacked from the sewers.

She moved to the door and pressed her ear to it for a moment to ensure there was no one outside. When she felt certain she was alone she pulled out her lock picking kit and fiddled with the lock for a moment. It opened with a quiet snick and she entered the house.

Natasha crept from shadow to shadow as she navigated her way through the darkened house. The farther she got from the basement the more nervous she felt. The silence in the house descended upon her like a heavy blanket. Nothing moved, not even the air. The searchlights outside were visible from the windows, but they never turned into the house, never did more than provide slight illumination of the floor.

She paused when she reached the end of the hall. According to the blue prints she had studied at the beginning of the mission, the room before her was Padashoue's bedroom. As Natasha crept forward, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. It was too quite in the house. Far too quiet.

But she had a deadline and the time to stop and plan some more didn't exist. Glancing around once again, Natasha took a deep, steadying breath and moved swiftly across the hall, flinging Padashoue's door open. Despite the lack of light, Natasha could tell the room was empty. There wasn't any sign of the bed having been slept in and the air was still. No one hid in one of the corners, Natasha could hear her heart echoing in the silence.

Cursing under her breath she began to methodically search the room. A handful of condoms in his dresser, some clothes in a few drawers, and blank paper on the desk. Nothing useful. Nothing to tell her where Padashoue could have gone. Natasha charged out of the room and began searching the house for anyone. She had to find out where Padashoue was. She didn't have time for this. Hawkeye was still after her. And she didn't have nearly enough time at this point.

A large group of guards—about two-dozen men—sat in utter silence. Hardly daring to breath as they waited. The Widow was hunting, they could hear a disembodied voice in their earpieces, relaying her every move to them.

"She's left the second floor. On her way to you. ETA five minutes," the voice said.

The leader of the squad stood and gestured rapidly; take positions, guns ready.

The men moved slowly, knowing that any noise from one of them would result in severe punishment if not death. The Black Widow couldn't know they were waiting for her, ready to attack. Each slunk into the shadows around them, trying to become as invisible as possible.

Natasha felt impatient as she searched the house. She couldn't catch a break on this assignment. Natasha had hated this assignment from the start, but now that everything was going wrong she was furious. What were her handlers thinking? Sending her in on such a crappy assignment. They hadn't had much information to go with, and the fact that SHIELD and the Americans were involved would have caused them to hesitate and at least warn her before she went in.

Throwing open the final door in the hall she found herself in a library. Something felt different about this room. It felt as though it had been occupied recently. Creeping slowly into the room Natasha forced herself to take deep, silent breaths as she drew her gun. She moved towards the back of the room, winding through the shelves, assuming that anyone trying to hide in the library would have headed towards the back. Glancing down at the floor Natasha noticed something strange, the floor was dusty, but in some spots it was clear that someone had stood in the room. A beam of light from outside shone through a window, highlighting an area that had obviously seen recent use. The dust particles in the air became apparent in the beam of light and Natasha froze. "дерьмо," she swore. (Shit.)

There wouldn't be dust in the air still—at least not in the quantity she saw—if the disturbance had happened over an hour before. This was recent movement, within the last few minutes.

Spinning around, Natasha raised her gun and hurried towards the entrance to the room. Now that she knew what to look for she could see signs of movement all over the place. The number of people remained unknown, but Natasha didn't plan on staying to find out how many there were.

Natasha had made it halfway back to the door when a man stepped out in front of her. He was wearing night vision goggles and holding an automatic weapon. He pointed the gun at the Black Widow, "Put down your weapons and come with us," he commanded.

Natasha kept her eyes trained on this man while listening as others scrambled out from behind the shelves.

"Drop it!" the man ordered. "Now."

Natasha smirked at him; "You aren't allowed to take a shot at me, at least not right away. Your boss wants me alive."

The man didn't refute her statement.

Then Natasha was moving. She dove to her left, taking the soldiers by surprise. She managed to knock down two of them and get behind a third before the others had time to react. Then the shooting started. Natasha managed to get a few rounds off herself, each hitting a target perfectly before the guard she had been using as a shield went down.

Natasha ducked and rolled behind one of the shelves, muttering Russian curses under her breath. There was a pause in the gunfire as the soldiers realized they didn't have a clear shot at their target. The Black Widow didn't hesitate. She dove out from behind the shelf she hid behind and let off three rounds before she reached the next place of cover.

The thump of bodies hitting the ground told the Widow her aim had been true. Then the gunfire started again. Bullets shredded the books around Natasha, but none of them hit her. There was another lull as the guards murmured to each other. Natasha couldn't quite make out their words but they were arguing. Taking a deep breath she once again left her shelter and let off three more shots at the guards. They were quicker to respond this time, their bullets flying before Natasha had reached the next hideaway, moving closer and closer to the door.

This time, they stopped almost immediately. Natasha knew that the soldiers expected her to try for the next shelf again. The worst thing she could do was exactly that. She had to think of something and think of it fast. Checking her clip she realized there were only four bullets left. She checked that another clip sat within easy reach on her belt.

"Alright," she called to the guards. "I'm coming out. Don't shoot; I'll let you take me to your boss. I'd rather not die here."

"Hold your gun so we can see it," the leader called.

Natasha slipped her arm out from behind the shelf, holding her gun as nonthreateningly as possible. Then she stepped out from the shelf, on the side closest to the door. The guards had their guns pointed directly at her, fingers on the triggers. Natasha held her hands up in surrender. There were eight men in front of her. Ten were on the ground; two of them were bleeding and moaning. The others were still. Natasha didn't know where the other men were but she assumed they were trying to flank her.

A sound from several shelves behind her proved Natasha's assumption correct. Running out of options, she pulled a second gun out and shot at the eight men aiming at her and back towards the noise, meanwhile charging towards the entrance. She only had fifty feet or so to reach the doors.

The bullets started hailing down on Natasha once again. This time she didn't stop. Hoping that luck would be with her that night and would allow her to escape unscathed. A sharp sting on her thigh caused her long stride to falter slightly, but she recovered swiftly. Barely even noticing when a bullet grazed her upper arm.

Then she barreled out the doors of the library and raced towards the entrance to the building. She needed out. Right now, surprise was on her side. Padashoue's men wouldn't expect her to escape their trap let alone run right towards them.

Hawkeye sat above Padashoue's complex, watching the patrolling guards. Their patterned patrols came to an end and many turned to face the building. Gunfire echoed through the night and the library lit up sporadically. Hawkeye stood and nocked an arrow; he didn't want to miss any of the next few minutes. There was a chance the Black Widow would escape the trap they had for laid for her, it wasn't a large chance, but it existed.

Clint's earpiece crackled to life. "Hawkeye," Coulson said. "We have the information you requested."

"Give it to me," demanded Clint.

"Black Widow, goes by Natasha Romanoff but this was most likely not her birth name. She was born in Russia and was taken by the Red Room training program at a young age. We don't know exactly when. She began killing six years ago but was in training until three years ago.

"The two years immediately after she finished training saw a marked decline in the amount of kills. Fifteen months ago something set her off and she went on a rampage. Russia exerts some control over her but it is clear she doesn't always follow their orders."

Clint nodded as he listened, "Any hints about how she feels in terms of her employers?"

Coulson sighed, "Clint, she doesn't feel anything… But it doesn't appear that she is happy with her position in Russia."

"Thanks, Phil," Clint acknowledged before turning off his earpiece and turning back to his target.

The door flew open at the front of Padashoue's home and he watched as a blur of black darted across the brightly lit courtyard. Clint didn't even try to hide the smirk that crept onto his face as he watched the Black Widow tear her way through Padashoue's guards. They didn't stand a chance as she attacked, not hesitating for a second.

Clint pulled a scope out of his pocket and attached it to his bow quickly before turning his attention back to the scene below. Now, he had no problem examining the Widow's face as she decimated the men in front of her.

It was frightening how little emotion she showed. Not a trace of anger, fear, joy, or sadness showed. Her face was a stony wall. Clint shivered at the coldness in the other assassin's eyes. What could have caused anyone to become so shut down they didn't feel anything? Clint could understand nearly anyone's emotions when it came to killing, whether the killings were justified or not, but the Black Widow's lack of anything terrified him.

The sun was beginning to creep over the horizon when the Widow finally broke away from the guards and darted out of the front gate. Only a handful of men remained standing in the yard.

Clint released some of the tension in his bow as he made to follow the Widow across the city. He just hoped she didn't head back into the sewers because then he risked losing her.

Natasha ran from Padashoue's complex for a solid twenty minutes before she stopped to rest. She glanced down to examine her leg and winced when she realized what she thought had been a graze was actually a much larger wound. The bullet had gone straight into the meat of her leg and stayed there. Glancing around once, Natasha slid down to rest against the side of the alley she was in.

Opening the bag on her back, she rummaged around for a while before drawing out a large pair of tweezers and some gauze. She took a single deep breath before shoving the tweezers into her thigh. She winced as she dug for the bullet. She could feel it, just out of reach. There! She had it, but it was slippery with blood and the tweezers struggled to grasp it.

Natasha was panting by the time she had managed to pull the bullet out of her leg. It had taken her nearly seven minutes of digging around to finally get a grip on the offending piece of metal and rip it out of her leg. The ground around her leg was covered in blood and she felt weak. With a growl she dropped the tweezers and went about bandaging her wound, packing pads of gauze against it then wrapping it tightly with longer strips. It wasn't a long-term solution. She definitely needed antibiotics and stitches, but it was all she could do at the moment.

Once the wound to her leg had been taken care of, Natasha turned to survey her other injuries. Her leg had become a pulsing ache after being bandaged, but she pushed that pain away. Her ribs were at least bruised from her fight with the guards in the complex, if not more severely damaged. Natasha gingerly pushed on her abdomen, checking for cracks or breaks. Thankfully there weren't any. Then she noticed the blood trailing past her elbow and down to her hand. With a sigh, Natasha turned her attention to the graze on her arm. It was a minor wound, but combined with the gunshot to her thigh, it wasn't one she could leave bleeding. She bandaged this one in much the same manner as her leg, using her teeth to pull the knot tight.

Natasha pushed herself to her feet hissing at the pain as it crashed over her. Her leg shook as she put weight onto it and it was all she could do not to cry out. Biting her lip, she forced herself towards the end of the alley and back onto the streets. Cursing quietly to herself she moved slowly, fighting the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her. She'd lost too much blood.

Clint watched from the rooftops as the assassin pulled a bullet from her leg without any painkillers then proceeded to get up and walk away. He could see the slight stiffness in her gait as she walked away, but it was unlikely anyone else would notice the change.

The comms unit in his ear crackled to life once again and Agent Coulson's voice rang clearly, "Sit-rep."

Clint grit his teeth knowing Coulson wasn't going to like what he had to say. "I tracked her to Padashoue's. She would have gotten him, if the guy had been home. Instead it was a trap for her, and she managed to escape it. By my count there were about two dozen guys waiting inside the building and another sixty outside. I don't know what happened inside, but the target cut through the guys in the courtyard as if they were nothing."

Clint paused for a moment before continuing, "I followed her to an alley where she tended to her wounds. Phil, she just ripped a bullet out of her leg without any painkillers then walked away as if it was nothing. She's good."

Coulson sighed, "Hawkeye, your orders are to take her out. There is no doubt that she's a superb operative. That's what got her in trouble in the first place."

"She'd be a great asset," Clint shot back.

"Hawkeye, you have your orders. The Council isn't going to change them just because you think she might be an asset," Coulson said. Clint could hear his handler's annoyance despite the man's attempts at sounding patient.

Clint was silent for a moment, "You haven't told them yet."

"...I'm hoping I won't have to tell them," Coulson eventually responded. "Stay on her and take the shot. Just know that when Fury calls for a sit-rep I won't be able to keep this from him."

Clint nodded, "Sorry to put you in this position Phil."

"Why can't you just take the shot?" Phil asked. "You know her history, you know she deserves it."

Clint shook his head in frustration before realizing his handler couldn't seem him. "I'm not sure I can explain it right now... I'm not sure I understand it yet."

Phil swore over the comms, "Dammit Clint, you can't make anything easy. Keep me in the loop on what's happening. And if you get a chance, please just take the shot."

"Will do," Clint replied before refocusing on following the Russian assassin.

Natasha had almost made it to one of her safe houses when her phone went off again. Cursing violently in Russian she answered it, pressing it to her ear.

"We have reports of you failing to eliminate the target again," the voice on the other end coldly greeted her. "Explain."

"I infiltrated his home, but he wasn't there, he's gone to ground," Natasha replied. "They had set a trap in the hopes of catching me."

There was silence over the line. Then Natasha heard muffled voices in the background. They were deciding her next instructions.

"You've failed us," the voice drawled.

"I can still eliminate Padashoue," Natasha insisted, knowing that her success or failure meant her life or death. "And deal with Hawkeye."

More silence greeted her.

"We're done cleaning up your messes Widow," the voice said.

In the background Natasha heard another voice, "Put out a hit order on the Black Widow."

The call ended abruptly.

Natasha dumped the phone in the nearest trashcan before turning and darting back the way she had come. The safe house wasn't safe any longer. Her own government had turned on her. Maybe if she took out Hawkeye and Padashoue she'd be forgiven, but she would have to hurry before other assets came after her.

AN: Thank you for reading, please take the time to review if you liked it, hated it, have questions, any review makes me happy.

Preview of Next Chapter:

"Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow," he finally said. "You have a lot to answer for."

Natasha glared at him. "Bite me!" she snarled.