Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, nor do I have anything to do with Marvel.

These will be short chapters of around 1000 words. This makes is easier for me to update.

I will write this to the best of my ability and apologise if it is not always of the same standard. I write this for fun!

The title for this story was given to me by my friend Krista, who also encouraged me to write and share this. Thank you, Widow-Sister!


Clint Barton had been sent to kill the Black Widow and this was his opportunity. He stood, his bow drawn as she sat tied up in front of him, helpless. Her green eyes darted back and forth, frantically trying to find a way out. She was young, much younger than he had thought she would be, and she was frightened. Created to kill, a weapon of mass destruction and there she was in front of him, shivering.

Her eyes locked with his and she opened her mouth, the softest whisper escaping, "Пожалуйста, нет…" They were simple words, ones that he could understand as they echoed in his mind, "Please, no..."

Clint stared at her, his mind whirring. This was supposed to just be another mission, but he had studied her, seen her when she thought nobody could. He had watched her move a small boy out of the way when she was pursuing her mark. She hadn't pushed him; she had lifted him gently and put him behind a crate. It was such a gentle moment, one that had caught Clint completely off-guard. It was why he hadn't shot her before now. They had to be face to face, to talk. Was there really no hope for her?

"What's your name," he demanded, trying to buy himself a little time to work out his next move.

There was silence. She stared back at him, her brow furrowed. "I am… You don't know?"

"You're known as the Black Widow, but that isn't really your name. You were taken from your family and you were trained to be an assassin for the KGB where they gave you a number, not a name. But you have one. Do you remember it?"

The redhead looked down, breaking their eye contact. Clint waited, willing to give her the time she needed. He didn't see her mouth move, but the words came clearly. "Natalia Alianovna Romanoff." Clint continued to stare at her until she looked up at him again, her eyes meeting his as she spoke, "You could have killed me by now. Why haven't you?"

He lowered his bow a little as he considered her. "I work for a counter-intelligence agency called S.H.I.E.L.D. I think you could be an asset to our team. You could do some good in the world." Even as he said it, Clint felt like it was a weak pitch.

Natalia Romanoff's response was almost immediate, "To defect from Russia would be failure, and I never fail."

Barton couldn't help but smile softly, "Not following an order isn't failure, Miss Romanoff. Sometimes, you just have to make a different call." He hesitated then sighed softly, "We can keep you safe, Natalia. All you have to do is say yes."

Her eyes drifted out of focus for a moment, as though she was remembering something; seeing something he could not see, and then she spoke, "Yes."


She was silent after that. He collected her few possessions and got her something to eat and drink. He led her to the quinjet and flew her back to S.H.I.E.L.D. yet still, she said nothing. She was taken from him when they landed. He had fought the other agents but had been ordered to stand down. He had yelled that no harm was to come to her and then, Clint Barton and his bow and arrow had chased Director Fury.

"Director, if you'll just listen-"

"I don't want listen, Agent Barton. I gave you an order and you deliberately disobeyed that order. If you can't finish the job, then I'll have someone else do it."

Clint glared at his boss, determined to make himself heard. "Sir," he began, "she was brainwashed and then she was alone. I believe she's afraid and that she needs to be rehabilitated and reintroduced to normal society. I believe that she could be an asset to S.H.I.E.L.D. and I will take full responsibility for her."

Nick Fury studied Agent Barton's face, searching for a flicker of doubt that was not there. He sighed, "Barton, we can't afford to fund this experiment of yours."

Immediately, the agent responded, "I'm not asking you to fund it, sir. I'd like to do this on my own." He lowered his voice so only Fury could hear him, "I'd like to take her home to Laura."

His good eye widened, Director Fury spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper, "You have a son, Agent Barton. Remember that."

Clint's eyes flicked momentarily to the monitor that showed the redheaded woman in her holding cell. "I know," he stated, "and I have complete faith in her."