Prologue

Run. It was the most natural of instincts to inherit during a situation like this. As if I hadn't been used to running my entire life. There was a reason Death followed close to my side, like a shadow I couldn't shake. More importantly, being chased by one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s assassins wouldn't have been half as hard to bare arms against except he was once a man I knew, of whom I attempted to kill first.

Rounding the corner block, I sought refuge from the dangling fire escape above my head. Blowing the loose strands of red away from my lips proved the least of my worries. Fear was never a strong suit that penetrated the coils chinked within my invisible armor. Then, as though I couldn't release the tight bearings offering a burning sensation towards the tensed muscles in my arms, I heard his scream.

"Romanoff!" He belted louder off the walls, knowing I could hear every word. "Why don't you make this easier on yourself and give up?!" As if that were a logical option, I bit my tongue at the ultimatum. "We're not enemies; we're soldiers." Soldiers couldn't have peace without bloodshed. This was a simple fact he neglected to learn. Someone always takes the fall; someone always falls from what is taken. I don't know why he couldn't understand the relevance to my contradiction. If I gave up, or gave in, I'm dead. If I chose to fight back, or fight against, I would most likely die. But, at least, I wouldn't die by his hand. "So, why don't you fight like one? Prove me wrong." Each word, he emphasized slowly to accelerate my impulsive nature.

"Soldiers?" Apparently, being proud was one of my many, unforeseen, weaknesses. That, and the man provoking my willpower beneath me. "What makes you think the world will accept us. All they know is that we kill. We murder people who abuse the system, of which laws have deemed acceptable. This enforcement agency is no different from the strings they pulled around our joints for the sake of humanity. A better world for a better cause isn't something that realistically happens overnight, Barton." The lone echoes bounced around the alleyway in every direction as he surveyed the area. He knew I was there but couldn't pinpoint the location of my voice, which is what I had intended from the start. "And, that should have been a question to fight for before they decided to take away every original thought that existed against them." Clinging to the bar, I swung my legs forward in order to land on the staircase leading to the roof. "You don't know who you are or what you fight for anymore and you still call yourself a soldier-"

A clang from the trashcan centered around his pacing jump. The higher the risk introduced, the better suited I became to sustain its balance. It was nothing for me to crawl, scurry underneath and around the metal bars that blocked my escape. While as, when a creature is use to the angle of distance, that's all they'll find with me. I move quick and when I strike, I'm extremely lethal. Barton knows that.

Moving quicker to outrun my opponent seemed flawless to a certain extent of intrigue. The rafter banged against his combat boots as I climbed the final brick to the top. Part of the concrete separated from the solid structure as the falling debris barely nicked his shoulder. I paused, breathless. His eyes were different, like the emotion still remained untouched by unnatural forces. During the lapse of judgment, he halted on the spot, staring upward at my stature. I soon wished I hadn't stopped in my tracks.

"What is it that separates the two of us, Natasha?!" Flipping my hair to one side, the moonlit glow proceeded to unveil my identity to the agent. "You talk about uncertainty. You talk about how the world can know no peace. But, how can that truth exist if you don't know yourself?" Hatred burned like a sizzling fire amongst my retinas.

Words tend to slide off the tongue better when they're said to mean revenge. "They've changed you." Shaking conveyed my following silence towards him. He shook his head in acknowledgment.

"No, they helped me realize-"

"-that you're brainwashed, Clint." Looking down at the shadowed figure, I coincided with the notion. Likewise, he persists on nodding his head in a negative response. "I won't risk everything I know to join them."

"You won't risk anything; I promise you."

"We're not programmed to make promises, remember?" At that specific interval, I lunged over the edge of siding, tracing the exact steps needed to gain an advantage. A thump resounds back to my ears. Barton wasn't far behind the trail I led. Stopping, I twisted the loaded weapon inches from his face.

He tilted his neck ever so slightly before dropping his arrows and bow. "They think you're a threat, Natasha. They won't rest until they see you surrender."

Motioning my eyes over his, there was a small recognition within his tone. One that I had come to respect over the past few years. Honesty was never a strength considered amongst warriors. And, between us, it was granted impromptu at best. We knew what cards to play and what angles to chose. But, if you chose the wrong cards to play and the wrong angles, you'll end up regretting everything you once stood for. Pride isn't a necessity, just a notable trait. "Surrendering isn't one of my options. Getting rid of the man in the iron suit, is." Breathing out, I confided in his stance. His guard was up and didn't falter at the menacing bullet awaiting its target within the barrel.

"You're either with us or against us." Barton's hand waves out into the air as I back up to the ledge. "If you choose to be against them, I can't protect you. They will kill you." Thinking over the threat appeared to be my only backup plan besides the loaded gun held within my palms. I contemplated the outcome of sorted events. A sacrifice would have to be made against the hero because he held one lethal power of destruction towards the society, which turned a blind eye to his success.

The surrounding winds gusted at the accelerated motion of the propellers to the helicopter. "Not before I kill him first, agent." His feet pivoted backwards as I fired the weapon. The stream of the passing bullet swiveled through the air, allowing the compacted metal to puncture the silo on the rooftop. It gave me enough time to sprint towards the hovering machine as he retrieved his bow and arrows. Gripping the edge of the metal bar at the bottom, I heaved myself into a perched posture to observe his attack. Water continued to leak from the exposed hole of the silo before exploding into a huge wave.

Barton busted at a dead-bolt run after clearing his head about the current conversation. Part of me wished him harm in the most excruciating of ways while the other half wanted to believe his cries of vulnerability. He jumped in mid-air, twisting to shoot at the helicopter. The tip of the arrow embedded its form next to the side of the bar. Substance without flaws remained the contender between the two of us. I watched him dangle on the cord until I aimed the only shot I needed to end his righteous point. Once the bullet snagged the unraveling cord, darkness enveloped the rest of the ground where nothing could be distinguished without the light of day. We once fought on the same battlefield with the same mission. Now, the lone difference was that we didn't fight for the same truths anymore.

Disclaimer: I do not claim any ownership of Marvel's Comics. However, this fanfic based upon the character Black Widow, as one of the Avengers, is my original work.

A/N: I always loved the chemistry between these two characters in Marvel's comics. This is my take on Natasha Romanoff's past events leading up to when she meets Clint Barton and the aftermath after he's captured by S.H.I.E.L.D. Exploring the depth of the relationship they once had based upon the truth that was withheld from their knowledge. As always, wish me luck!