Author's Note:

Hello! Here is another story from me, and I've gone back to my routes a little with Marvel- as this story is Clintasha!

This is set about four years before the Avengers, and a year or two after Natasha joined SHIELD.

I'm not sure there's much more I can say in the first chapter, apart from, I hope you like it!

Natasha paced the confines of her room. Clint had been gone for fifteen days- fifteen. She groaned. He had convinced her to abandon her country, turn on them and then join this organisation. She had been on three missions, all with Clint, all while being watched. In fact, she was still being watched, intently, by everybody. There were cameras on her 24/7- in her bedroom, the hallways, during training- and even though she hadn't located the ones in her bathroom, she was sure they were there. And now Clint was gone.

Clint had told her he would be back shortly, that he had a 'personal matter' to attend to, and hadn't been back. She didn't know anybody else here. Of course she knew names, she had been introduced to them, but without Clint there, she was just an assassin. That and there was no chance of her being treated like an actual agent here; she was nobody.

Natasha sighed deeply. It had taken a year for Clint to leave her- to abandon her. She should have expected it- in fact, she had expected it- but she also had hope… and she believed him when he told her she wouldn't have to go through this alone. But now… now… he was gone. Over two weeks. The longest he had been gone previously was for six days, and he had told her beforehand.

She grabbed her phone, finally calling him. She was a very patient person, but she wanted to know he was giving up, wanted to know if all it took was just over a year for her to be abandoned. The phone was supposed to be used for emergencies, but right now she didn't care.

Ring. Ring.

"Barton." He answered.

Natasha took a split second to compose herself after the mild shock from him actually answering. "You're alive, then."

"I am. What's going on?" Clint questioned, sounding tired.

Now that she had him on the phone- and, more importantly, he wasn't dodging her calls- she had no idea what to actually say. She wasn't known for her words.

"Natasha?"

There it was, that name, the way he said it. She almost sighed in response. "When are you coming back?" She asked.

"I'm not sure. There's… something I have to deal with." Clint replied, his tone regretful.

"Bullshit. What could possibly take you fifteen days to do?" Natasha questioned. If he didn't want to work with her anymore, he could have just said so. She wasn't a little girl who would break, and she hated being messed around with.

He was silent for a moment. "It's nothing. I'll be back soon, most likely." He said dismissively.

"'Most likely'?" Natasha spat out in disgust. "Don't bother." She hung up the phone- she couldn't be bothered to deal with somebody who would dismiss her in that manner. He had spoken so much on trust and believing in each other- and now he was just throwing her to the side. Well, she didn't need him and she would not put up with somebody treating her like this.

She grabbed her bag momentarily, ready to leave right then and there. But then she looked around the room- the lack of handcuffs on her bed, the pillows, the freedom. Even though nobody trusted her here, when she had been injured, nobody hesitated to rush to aid her. Stepping to the door, she dropped her bag; there were no locks. Her hand grasped the handle, the cool metal, and pulled- there was no resistance as the door opened. There were no guards, nobody to stop her as she walked down the corridor freely past other agents.

Nobody was stopping her; she could easily escape because there were no immediate threats or anybody physically holding her there.

Natasha came to a halt, pursing her lips.

"Are you okay, Agent?" Somebody asked her.

Natasha looked at the agent, having no idea who he was; his short hair was curly and he was definitely not a field operative. There was genuine concern on his face, and at that moment, she decided to stay. "Yes, just… having complications with my partner- he's AWOL with some personal matters that he won't tell me about." Before meeting Clint, Natasha would have had no intention of telling anybody that much about what was going on with her, even if she were about to snap their necks, and now she was unloading on a random agent- one who looked like he hadn't even graduated from the academy.

"Oh. Is this a partner partner? Of course a partner would be a partner partner, but I meant a romantic partner or a work partner?" He babbled.

"Work."

"Right. Of course. Not of course, I'm sure you have a romantic partner- not that you need one." He trailed off. "Sorry, I'm Leo Fitz." His hand abruptly extended to shake hers.

Natasha shook it, pulling back quickly. "Natasha Romanoff."

By the look on Fitz's face, he had just figured out who she was. "Can I take a picture with you? Simmons would be so jealous that I met you."

Natasha blinked in surprise; that was not the reaction she had expected. "Sure." She agreed, only because without Clint, she supposed allies would be helpful- after all, that was what everybody advised her to have. She stepped closer to him to get into the image, staring at it patiently.

"Smile." He said, making her glare slightly in his direction as the flash went off. "Thank you."

"Bye." She muttered, turning and walking back to her room. She heard him call a goodbye after her, but ignored it. Right now she needed to work out where she stood with S.H.I.E.L.D when Clint wasn't around.

Natasha pulled herself up for the twenty-third time- the best thing she had asked for was a pull-up bar in her in her quarters.

Clint eased into her room. "Hey, Nat," he greeted, looking exhausted.

Natasha dropped down to the ground, staring at him for a few moments. "Don't call me Nat- I hate that name." She responded emotionlessly, turning away from him and grabbing a towel, wiping it over her face and neck.

"Okay… Hey, Natasha." He corrected, sitting on the edge of her thin mattress. "Get into any trouble while I was gone?" His face insisted he was just teasing, though his eyes… they looked… tired. Old. It was slightly unnerving.

"What do you want, Barton?" Natasha questioned coldly, looking at him straight in the eyes- trying to see past everything he was putting on to work out what was going on. She was never one for small talk, although she half wished she had been willing to try it in this circumstance- but not enough to actually do so.

He held up his arms placatingly. "I just wanted to see how you were doing." He defended. "I know I was gone for a long time, and I'm sorry."

Natasha scoffed. "I'm fine; still alive. You?" She replied slightly patronisingly, harshly and coldly- but there was the slightest hint of curiosity and concern.

"I'm fine," He answered, though his eyes screamed 'I'm not fine.' "Just… had a rough few weeks, I guess. Any of the agents give you any trouble?" That was an attempt at redirection if she'd ever seen one.

"No. What's going on?" Natasha demanded. Upon him not immediately replying, she continued; only Clint managed to get her to talk more than three words in a whole conversation. "Barton, what the fuck happened to you? You just disappeared on me, breaking a promise- I thought you were different."

Clint rubbed at his eyes and sighed. "I am different. It's not my fault- it was a personal emergency." He explained halfheartedly, voice now as tired as he eyes looked. "Or am I not allowed to be there for my-" He broke off, seeming to think better of what he'd been about to say.

Natasha stared at him silently, cold and collected. If he didn't think she was worth explaining something to, then he wasn't worth her replying.

He seemed to sense this immediately. "Come on, don't be like that. I'm not doing all of this to spite you."

"You know more about me than anybody. Always telling me it is good to open up, to talk, to trust you. I didn't realise that didn't go both ways." Natasha replied, dropping her towel onto her bed next to Clint before leaning against the wall- her room was small, but putting the maximum distance between them in the small space represented everything she wanted.

Clint's eyes were practically pleading, but at her stubborn glare, he finally seemed to give in. "My wife died three weeks ago." He blurted, not meeting her eyes.

Natasha froze, her body going rigid. He had a wife? "My condolences." She muttered, unable to fully process what he had just said. He had a wife, who was now dead. "Was she an agent?" She questioned before wondering if she shouldn't ask any questions.

"She used to be." He responded somewhat wistfully. "She was a secret… She stayed home and took care of things behind the scenes."

"Are you here to ask me to take out whoever killed her? Because if so, I'm in." Natasha replied, her eyes slightly skeptical. He was keeping something from her. Something about his wife, or his personal life- after the amount of times he had practically forced her to reveal her past, it was only fair she did the same thing.

He smiled somewhat sadly, it not quite reaching his eyes. "No, unless you know a way to kill cancer."

"That sucks." Natasha commented blatantly. "Well, if you don't need me for a mission, what are you doing here?" She asked, keeping everything in her mind. Him coming here in the first place didn't make sense if he didn't want anything from her. Maybe the reason he came had something to do with what he was hiding from her.

"Just thought I'd explain why I left," He answered, standing. "If you don't want me here, I'm gonna head to my room and sleep." He made for the door.

Natasha shook her head. "No- does this mean you're staying?"

He paused. "For a few days. I need to work out how I'll be working in the future."

"You're leaving S.H.I.E.L.D." Natasha stated. If he'd thought her voice had been closed off before, he was wrong. Because now she was completely closed off. He came back to say goodbye; she hated goodbyes.

"Not really leaving… just changing my work schedule, I suppose." He answered. "I'll still be in touch."

"So, you're leaving." Natasha repeated, opening her door. "I'd like you to leave."

There was a momentary flash of something that looked like hurt on his features before he schooled his expression and exited. "If that's what you want…"

Natasha stared at him, not really wanting him to leave but also not being able to stay in the same room as him right now. "If you're leaving, say so. If you ever want to tell me what's going on, I'll be here. Until then, what else is there for us to talk about?" She questioned rhetorically, telling him the only options she was currently prepared to follow through on.

He shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I'll always be here for you, Nat, I promise. I'm not abandoning you." He said solemnly, maintaining solid eye contact.

"Then why is it that, after a year of knowing each other, it seems like I know nothing about you?" Natasha asked, but instead of waiting for a response, she closed the door softly. Stepping back, she waited a few minutes- waiting for him to come back in. But he didn't.

Thanks for reading! What did you think?