So here it is. This will be my origins story and it will run all the way through the movie as it follows their partnership/relationship. Feed back would be greatly appreciated and I will update whenever I can. I am getting into showing with my horse and stay busy during the week with school. Thanks for reading and drop a review. Enjoy.

The night was dark and silent. The sky was hidden behind thick black clouds and there was no breeze to disturb the trees. Most of the forest creatures were hidden away in their dens, seeking shelter from the snow. But one creature remained out in the cold night air. It prowled through the shadows on two legs, gliding over the snow covered ground without a sound. Its keen Grey eyes were constantly moving, scanning the trees and thickets for any sign of its prey. The movements it made were graceful yet deadly, like a shadow that was looking to claim a life. The lean form and skilled movements made one things clear: This was a hunter stalking his prey.

Clint sighed as he approached the tall pine tree that sat on the crest of the hill, his breath turning white in front of face. A shiver wracked his body as he reached up to the first bare branch and pulled himself into the tree, scaling it with ease. Once he reached the top his eyes swept the area once more, then stopped on the compound that sat at the bottom of the hill: his destination. Concrete walls surrounded the court yard and housing units and Clint was willing to guess that they were no shorter than 30 feet. Spot lights were at each corner, sweeping out across the woods as the guards looking for any signs of trouble. From his perch Clint could see down into the court yard where several more guards roamed about, guns slung lazily over their shoulders. He spotted the barracks and his eyes began sweeping over the small houses as he counted in his head. 'One...two...three...there!' It was just a flash, anyone else might have missed it, but Clint had caught the brief flash of red. Taking the number to memory he climbed out of the tree and started down the slick slope.

The thick snow muffled his foot steps and the following snow covered his tracks. His dark suit combined with the dark of night made him a living shadow that glided along, silent and deadly. Within minutes he had reached the large stone walls and his eyes instantly picked out every flaw in the rough stone. Within minutes he had picked out enough hand holds to take him all the way up the wall. He slung his bow over his shoulder before hoisting himself up and climbing, snaking up the wall live a fast growing ivy. The wall was slick with ice and several times Clint nearly slipped, his bow slamming across his back as he lurched. Miraculously the guards overheard didn't hear his grunts of pain and he finally neared the top of the wall. He stopped and let his ears do the work; he took note of the guards pattern and waited until they had passed to opposite sides of the walk way. He nimbly climbed up over the wall and onto the cat walk, hesitating- a 30 foot drop faced him and there was no way he had time to pick out a way to climb down. He took a deep breath and jumped as they guards turned on their heels, starting back towards the center.

Clint landed in the deep snow with a grunt, pain coursing through his back as he landed on a rock. He rolled into the shadows just as the guards looked over the edge, yelling at each other in Russia. Clint was afraid he had been spotted, but the arguing eventually stopped and the guards went back to pacing. He waited a few more minutes for everything to completely settle down before slinking along the wall, heading towards the houses on the far end of the court yard. He slipped past several guards with ease, somewhat disgusted with them; they had become far too comfortable in their little fortress. Within minutes he had reached the first house and he grunted as he pulled himself on the roof, trusting the thick snow to muffle his footsteps. He skillfully made his way along the roofs, leaping from one to the other, until he reached the third house. There he crept forward in a crouch, pulling the bow off his shoulder as he approached the wall of the fourth house. His eyes trained on the window and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

His heart began to beat harder as he watched the window and for the first time in years he felt nervous. His palms were slick with sweat as he clutched his bow tighter, trying to see into the frost covered window. He knew she was in there, knew that she could kill him as easily as he could kill her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his nerves, notching an arrow. He opened his eyes and then she was there at the window, staring at him with bright green eyes. His heart leapt into his throat and he froze, unable to release the show. The arrow fell to the roof with a muted thud and they stared at each other, their eyes locked together as they sized each other up. The minutes ticked in silence and he managed to swallow, his mind racing. Why hadn't he taken the shot?

"Вы приехали, чтобы убить меня." She finally spoke and from the way she said it Clint knew it wasn't a question. He mentally cursed as he remembered telling Coulson that he could skip the Russian lessons, now he was regretting it. "Пожалуйста сделайте. Убейте меня теперь. Поместите стрелку через мое сердце. Закончите этот ад на земле, в которую меня тянули." She spoke again and Clint was surprised to hear the slight pleaing tone in her voice, this was the Black Widow afteral. "Kill me," She finally said in English. It was a demand full of self loathing and anger. She reached for her gun and Clint flinched, but she tossed it aside and held her arms up. "Do it now."

"No." Clint wouldn't have been sure he actually said it if her face had not contorted in surprise. He was defying direct kill order from the council and defying everything he had ever taught himself; never show mercy to a target, never. Especially when that target was on the most wanted list. "I won't," He said, this time a bit quieter.

"Why?" She hissed, her green eyes flashing in anger.

"Because I won't shoot an unarmed man."

"How noble," the disgust was evident in her voice. "You are pathetic. Kill me."

"No. I've been watching you."

"I know. I saw you coming from the hill. I saw you in Paris and in London too."

Clint's eye brows rose in surprise at that; he was sure he had remained unseen. "Why didn't you kill me then?"

"Because I knew you would come for me. I was hoping you would turn out to be a bit more ruthless."

"Sorry to disappoint," his brow creased. "I won't kill you though. I do not believe you are bad."

"Who are you to judge? You watch me for a week and suddenly you know me?" She spat at him. "Complete your orders! Kill me!"

"I won't kill an innocent person."

"Innocent?" She snorted. "I have killed people. Entire families; mothers, fathers, children. All of them. I am far from innocent, иностранец."

"You have been doing what you had to in order to survive," he said in a soft tone. "We have all been there. There are other ways though."

"What I have done is punishable by death. There is no other way."

"We all have red on our ledger," Clint's voice was nostalgic, brief pain flashing on his face before he resumed his stony mask once more. "There are ways to wipe it out."

"Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't. But I can help you. You can leave this," he spread his hands, guestering to the compound. "Stop being Ianvitch's lap dog, stop being locked away until you are needed. Let me help you."

"Why? Why do you want to help me?"

"I...I don't know. Just a gut feeling."

She snorted at that, bending down to retrieve her gun. She noticed the way he flinched and she inwardly smiled: it was good for him to be afraid of her. She grabbed a back pack from the end of her bed before slipping out the window. She ignored the hand he offered and made her way onto the roof without his help, tossing her red locks over her shoulder. "Well? Let's get moving. Unless you want to stand here and freeze."

"Wait?"

"What now?" She asked irritably, narrowing her eyes.

"What is your name?"

"You know my name."

"No, what is your name?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"I am Clint. Clint Barton."

"That is nice. Now let's go," she ignored him as she leapt off the roof and onto the ground. "There is a secret tunnel behind the barracks. We can easily get out through there."

Clint nodded as he followed her lead, doubt gnawing at his chest. Had he made the right call? Would she kill him as soon as they were alone? What would Fury and Coulson say? At that thought he groaned and ran a hand through his hair, dreading returning to base. What had he gotten himself into?