A one-shot inspired by a picture I saw on Instagram. I don't own the picture or the Avengers!
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Natasha rushed around the apartment packing up all of her belongings. She didn't want to run, not now, but her past was catching up to her. Ivan Drakov had somehow managed to find her after all of these years. Just when she had thought she was in the clear and the last of her skeletons had been cleaned out of her closet, he showed up.
She had gone running like she always did. There was this coffee shop a few miles away that she had made a habit of running to. And like always, she ordered her black coffee and sat at the table in the back corner. It kept her pretty much out of sight, but gave her full vision of the entire room in case she needed to make a quick escape.
On her way to her usual table, she pulled that day's paper out of the rack and settled down to read it. Sipping her coffee, she skimmed through the pages. Nothing out of the ordinary really, just more boring news.
Stark had announced the creation of his new post-arc reactor suit. Someone had gone on a killing spree, but had been caught. The weather was forecasted to be getting cooler as they headed back toward the fall months. The art museum had opened a new exhibit of ancient Greek sculptures.
She was just starting a story on page twelve about some thirteen year old boy who had shot fifteen of his classmates and four of his teachers when the door opened. The bell on top of the door jingled distracting her from her paper. That's when she saw that man, the one that had shown up in so many of her nightmares.
Drakov stood at the counter with his scarred face and his devilish grin. He hadn't looked over at her, but she knew that he had seen her. She looked at that canyon that she had carved so hastily into his face the day she escaped. Back then she was just a teenager, but even now she remembered what he looked like. But how could you forget the face of the one who turned you into a monster?
Natasha knocked back the rest of her coffee and rose to her feet quickly. She tossed the cup in the trashcan and tucked the newspaper back into the stand trying to seem as calm as she could. Inside, she was screaming and her heart was beating a thousand times a minute.
She was almost out the door when he turned to look at her. He shot her his menacing little smirk that made her blood run cold. Natasha swallowed the lump forming in her throat and ran out of the coffee shop.
And that's how she ended up here digging through drawers and throwing assorted articles of clothing into her suitcase. By the time Clint got home, she had pulled on a blonde wig. She was faced away from him and as far as he could tell, she didn't know he was home. She was too busy pulling all the pieces to a fake identity out of the pantry in the kitchen.
Clint came up behind her pressing against her back. He placed his hands on either sides of her hips and kissed her jawline. Natasha stiffened against him for a moment, but he felt her relax as his lips trailed down her neck.
"Clint," she moaned.
"Where are you going?" He asked breathing his hot breath against her bare shoulder.
"I'm running," Natasha stated pulling out of the trance he had put her under. It was like she was suddenly aware of the fact that her location had been compromised.
"From who?"
"It doesn't matter," she replied yanking her body out of his grasp. "But I can't stay here, it isn't safe."
"Let me help you," Clint said trying to grab her hand. She pulled it out of his hold roughly.
"No, this is my problem."
"Does this have to do with Red Room?" Clint asked.
When she didn't answer, he knew that he was right. Someone had found her, something had spooked Natasha and she didn't feel safe anymore. Whatever it was that was making her run, he knew it had something to do with her past.
"Let me fight this with you, I can help you," Clint persisted.
"My past is my own, Clint," she said quietly dropping her head.
Clint grabbed Natasha's small hand and held it in his. Gently, he turned her body so she was facing him, but she refused to look at him. "Natasha, look at me," he demanded using his thumb to lift her chin. She agreed reluctantly letting her emerald green eyes match the gaze of his stormy grays. Clint lifted her hand and ran his finger over the ring on her finger. "You see this ring?"
Natasha nodded in response.
"This ring means we are partners; for better or worse. The day I put this on your finger, I promised to take your problems and make them our problems. So no, Tash, you're past is not your own; it's mine as much as it is yours."
Clint kissed her finger and looked at her with a look of determination brewing in his eyes. Natasha knew she wouldn't be able to get him to let her take care of this or run off on her own. He would always track her down and he would always try to help her no matter what she did to him or what she said to him.
"Please," he begged. "Don't run away. Let me help you. We can take out whatever monster you're running from together. You just have to tell me what we're up against."
"It's Drakov," Natasha relented closing her eyes.
She told him everything. Natasha told him about how he killed her family and took her when she was a baby. Told him about the kill or be killed method he used and how he used to starve the girls. How she used to be his favorite toy and how he injected her with countless serums just so he could push her harder. The way he used her for sex and abused her. Natasha even told Clint about the day she ran away and she cut open the side of Drakov's face with a broken beer bottle.
"He found me," Natasha whispered her voice cracking. "This time he won't let me go. He'll kill anyone who stands in his way, that's why I have to go."
"Where are you going to go? No matter where you go, he's going to find you. Why not kill him and get it over with."
"Because he has the same enhancers I do, it'll be almost impossible to kill him."
"But not quite impossible."
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Natasha fired her gun and relished in the sound of it exploding from the barrel. She watched the bullet pierce through Drakov's chest and he stumbled backward falling to the ground. But Natasha knew that it wouldn't kill him, just like this shot wouldn't kill her either. It would only weaken him.
She approached his body lying on the ground pulling a knife out of her belt. In one swift movement, she was kneeling on the concrete next to him holding the blade to his neck.
Clint, though she didn't know how, had managed to lure Drakov out of the city and into an abandoned building. Natasha figured she didn't really want to know anyway, probably something that wasn't legal. The Hawk was nowhere to be seen, but Natasha knew he was hiding somewhere watching very closely. There was probably a machine gun aimed at Drakov just in case anything went wrong.
"Hello, my dear, Natalia," Drakov smiled choking on blood.
"Drakov," Natasha hissed through gritted teeth.
"What are you doing?" He asked.
"Crossing off one more demon from my past," she stated pressing the knife closer to his neck. The blade split some of the skin on his neck drawing a dribble of blood.
"Oh, darling," he said his Russian accent thick. "You wouldn't kill the man who made you into what you are, would you?"
"иди к черту," she whispered. (Go to hell.)
Effortlessly, she pulled the knife across his neck and the sickly sound of splitting skin filled the air. Ivan Drakov was dead. Natasha plopped on the floor next to his lifeless body letting the knife drop next to her. She stared at her hands and his crimson blood staining her fingers.
She could hear Clint's boots approaching her and the popping of his knees as he crouched down next to her. "He's dead," Natasha whispered.
"You're free," Clint breathed into her ear kissing her temple. "Let's go home."
And so they did. He grabbed her hand and lead her away from the man that once had terrified her. The nightmares didn't go away, but when she woke up screaming she remembered the way he looked when the life left him and she found herself falling into a peaceful sleep.
_What did you think? Please review!