A/N Nothing new just more refined than it had previously been. Oh and I don't own anything except the plot.


Unlike most people, the first thing he noticed when he saw her across that crowded train station in France was not her fiery red hair, it was her eyes. Green, and bright and far, far too deep. They were not at all soulless like he had expected from a master assassin with more kills under her belt than Coulson had collectables.

And something even more curious to him was they looked almost lost event though she clearly knew where it was she was going. The effect made her look almost innocent, which he knew was not true. There was life in them, not at all like he expected, with a life such as hers he expected to see nothing but death in her gaze but there was none. Dont get him wrong her eyes had clearly seen too much but there was still heart there, hidden in her eyes. Eyes that were to big, too wide, too open for the monster that 'they' claimed her to be.

All it took was one look into those beautiful, expressive eyes and he couldn't do it. Weeks of scouting, searching and planning, months of research and he couldn't bring himself to finish the job. He was a trained professional who had done this since time out of mind yet he couldn't take the shot.

That day he told Coulson over their communication system that he lost his target, the crowds were just too thick.


She had dreamed every night as she lay next to some new mark or alone in a dingy safe house, that one day things would change. She had left the Red Room, she had her freedom now (freedom like everything else was relative) but it was no longer enough.

She, rather childishly, dreamed of her very own white knight, a man with strong arms, hands that could protect her and who was smart enough not to fall for every little old trick that she could pull. She dreamed of meeting her match, somewhere out there, there had to be someone stronger, faster, better. Someone who could take her down easily, who had abilities to rival her own but chose to love her instead, her equal in every way.

Of course she was just as terrified of the idea as she was intrigued by it. Such a man would be dangerous, if he even existed, particularly if he wasn't on her side of the fence, but on the flip side, that would be half his appeal. Danger was something she was a little to familiar with but someone who was a danger to her was a whole other game.

After years of being the best in the 'business' not only would it be stimulating to actually have a challenge, but also if there was someone out there who could be there for her, not just another liability, but someone actually worth keeping around, an asset.

It was silly and childish to think that way, it could end up getting her killed but she could not help herself. Even the Black Widow had dreams, not even the Red Room could stop her.

So each night in the relative safety of her bed, in the cover that darkness created for her, she dreamed and when morning came, when the light threatened to expose her childish fantasies she threw them away.

At least for the day.

Until one day looking across a crowded station she saw her fantasies in the light of day for the first time. They had stormy grey eyes, sharp and focused and full of knowledge. One look and she was certain that he knew who she was, what she was. And then the press of the crowd separated him from her line of sight.

But she still saw him in her dreams that night.


The next time he sees her, he had tracked her to Germany, to an out of the way bar, in the back streets of Berlin. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt (very casual considering who she was), and her whole stance was so relaxed that he couldn't decide whether she was there for business or leisure.

After two hours of watching from a nearby roof top, he came to the conclusion that it was both.

The way she was subtly and carefully making her way across the room towards a man in a dark suit and sunglasses (even at that time of night), suggested that she had a purpose for being there. But the was she laughed and flirted the time away told him that she had all the time in the world to do it (whatever it was) in.

Watching the way her smile lit up her whole face when she laughed at a joke the bartender told and the light dimple that creased one cheek, for once he made a decision of his own.

He told Coulson that the wind was too strong.


She felt eyes on her, despite being hidden in the shadows of the alley.

She had just disposed of her mark, so it clearly wasn't him and there were no other occupants in the strangely empty street. Which was suspicious now that she thought about it and she cursed herself for not noticing sooner.

Scanning the area around her, something told her senses (senses that were rarely wrong) to look up. There sitting on a roof, just across the way, was the man with the stormy grey eyes, the one that had somehow made into her dreams. And he had a bow in his hands, a bow that was aimed directly at her heart.

It wasn't until she had fled across the city, to her nearest safe house and had time to think, that she wondered why he hadn't taken the shot before she noted his presence, because from the looks of the set up that he had (and he looked quite comfortable), he had plenty of time to do what he came for, perhaps even been there when she had first entered the bar.

The thought sent a shiver down her spine and straight to her belly, where it burst into hornets that wreaked havoc with her insides. She was never scared and she wasn't then either. What she felt was more of a nervous anticipation.

That night she dreamed of a dark stranger with a bow in his hands.

And the next morning when she put away her silly dreams once more, grey eyes still followed her in her thoughts.


He caught up with her again in Italy, Venus, ironically enough. By that point he had trailed her for almost a year and the higher-ups were beginning to lay on the pressure. According to Coulson anyway.

So for the first time since seeing her at the station in France he went in with the intention to act. But he wasn't perfect and he definitely wasn't a soldier and he did take action, he just didn't follow orders.

Later he would say he wasn't sure why he didn't just take the shot like he usually did, up high and out of sight, instead he came up close, arrow hovering above her heart, face to face, eye to eye.

He knew why of course but he wouldn't say.

He expected many things when he actually met the Widow for the first time, that he expected violence was a given, that he expected her to run was next on the list of possibilities. But he didn't expect those beautifully expressive eyes to contain happiness, or the look of a longing fulfilled.

And if her eyes surprised him her words did even more so, "the white knight with a bow." Simple, easy and she had him completely convinced.

He was reckless, she was childish but it fit, they fit.

Later he would tell her he was anything but a white knight, that he was almost as dirty as she was, but for right now green eyes were smiling and he just didn't care.