Just Rescue Me
"Do they start that young?"
Natasha Romanoff put down her cup of coffee, black of course and stared at Dr. Bruce Banner, a confused look on her pretty face. "Pardon?"
"I said do they start that young?" Bruce elaborated. "You know, agents as yourself. I asked you the same thing when we first met and you said that you did. Was that a response for you or for everyone?"
Natasha sighed. She knew she was bound to be asked that question sooner or later. She had just assumed it would have been Tony who often stuck his nose where it didn't belong.
Only three people knew about her past Fury, Phil, and Clint Barton. But the rest of them were bound to find out sooner or later. " I did. What do you want to know?"
Bruce grew uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry-"
"No, it's fine," Natasha interrupted. "Let's start with Budapest, that's where this mess began. I was fifteen and off the rails as you might say. I was working for the Red Room and to put it short I turned into a psychotic killer. I didn't care who I killed or how many people I killed. I enjoyed the blood. . .the torture. I got under SHIELD's radar in a very, very bad way."
Bruce paused. "What happened?"
"What usually happens," Natasha stared at her nearly empty coffee mug. "Fury send someone to kill me. Clint who at the time was nineteen and somewhat of a newbie agent." she paused and let out a small laugh. "I can remember it like it was yesterday, it was September 2005. . ."
September 2005, Budapest
One target.
One arrow.
One kill.
Clint Barton watched as a petite girl ran through the streets of Budapest. The clothes she wore were old and patched out and they had turned almost gray from the constant wear. The red hair was tangled and messy and it shielded part of her eyes, but she it mess with her skill.
Clint was watching from the roof, careful to shield his arrow from her view.
He had heard from Fury tales about the girl. She was a legend. The Black Widow as they called her. Trainer to perfection in the Red Room. She would have been a star agent in SHIELD, but here she was a killer. A murderer.
And she had to disappeared.
Clint didn't know her name or other personal facts. He didn't want to know. That always made the killing harder. And it was harder for him to kill girls, he just felt squeamish about it.
He watched as the girl slid a man's throat with grace while shooting another one in the head with a small gun.
Unbelievable, Clint thought, they are falling like dead flies.
Clint positioned the arrow. It was now or never and he had to catch her off guard. He saw that she was running towards the north exit.
He jumped from the roof with ease until he was exactly three inches away from her. He had his bow and arrow in positioned pointed straight at her forehead, that would kill her in an instant. At the same time she had managed to pull her gun and placed it towards his own forehead.
So there they were standing in front t of each other. Their weapons pressed on their forehead and they were breathing loudly in exhaustion.
Clint's eyes widened. He had expected everything when he met the famous Black Widow. But not this.
A child.
The girl couldn't be older than thirteen or fourteen, fifteen at the most.
She still had a baby face and a child expression on her pretty face. Her skin was the color of porcelain though somehow bruise. Her tangled red hair fell in front of her green eyes that didn't look malicious, but scared and suspicious.
The clothes that she wore were too loose for her small frame and she was practically dragging them. They were ripped and dirty and he noticed small splotches of blood on her knees and at the side of her stomach.
"Hey, you're bleeding-" Clint tried to touch the wound, put Natasha flinched and she repositioned the gun. "Don't come any closer, or I will shoot. Who are you working for?"
"Look, I just want to help," Clint said slowly. "Let me help you. I can help you."
"I don't need your help." she raised the gun and pulled there trigger. Though the strange thing was that the bullet wasn't for Clint, it was for the man behind him that had been about to kill him. Clint hadn't even sense that he was coming.
"I can take care of myself." she concluded as she put away her gun. She stopped, suddenly everything was starting to look dizzy and she felt queasy. No, no this cannot be happening! She thought.
Clint tried to reach out for her. "Hey, are you ok?"
Natasha tried to respond. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. And then everything turned black.
Natasha woke up hours later. She blinked slowly. She could feel the cool breeze from the night as well as hear the traffic from outside. She stood up slowly and saw that someone had changed her clothes and she was now wearing a white man's shirt that was long enough to look like a dress.
She pulled it up and saw that someone had bandaged her side and knee and it was no longer bleeding. A heavy patch was on her cheek as well. Weird.
"Hey," Clint stepped in wearing jeans and a t-shirt. "You're awake."
Natasha jumped from the bed and grabbed the first thing she saw in the room. A lamp. She raised it over her head. "Don't come any closer." Where was her gun?
Clint looked amused. "I'm not trying to hurt you, I'm not your enemy. Now put the gun down."
Natasha hesitated before she slowly placed the gun down. "Why should I trust you?"
Clint sighed. He knew this wasn't going to be easy. He threw her, her gun back. "Here. A peace offering. Now can we talk without you trying to kill me?"
Natasha nodded slowly, though she kept the gun close. "Where are my clothes?"
"In the wash. That shirt is mine by the way." he was quick to explain. "A nurse changed your clothes and bandaged you up. I was outside and well-"
"I wasn't going to accuse you of being a peeping tom." she shrugged.
"Well that's a relief," he said wearily. "Your English is very good. I thought you would speak to me in Russian."
"There are a lot of thing you don't know about me. Besides you are American." she sat at the edge of the bed. "Now why haven't you killed me? Don't tell me you feel sorry for me. I'm a murderer, a killer. I don't deserve your pity."
"Very few people will admit that," he grunted as he sat next to her. "I'm Clint Barton, I'm an Agent for SHIELD and I know who you are working for Black Widow."
Natasha gave a humorless laugh. "Natalia Romanov, that's my name. Not Black Widow and how did you find out about the Red Room?"
Clint shrugged. "SHIELD has resources and you're not exactly low key. You've caused a lot of problems for us."
Natasha snorted. "And you were sent to kill me, makes sense I guess. I thought I had it coming. Though I'm wondering while you aren't shooting me with your arrow instead of sitting with me having an idle conversation."
"How old were you when you started in the Red Room?"
"Four."
"And you've been a killer?"
"Since I was nine." she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "You don't seem surprise."
"I've heard worse."
"I doubt it."
"Do you like it?"
"What?"
"Being a killer. An assassin. Do you like it?"
"It doesn't matter if I like it or not." she argued. "It's my destiny."
"There is no such thing as destiny." he rolled his eyes. "And even if there was, which trust me there isn't you can change it."
"Even if there was a way to change it." she said. "I wouldn't know where to start."
"Well," he stood up and poured her a cup of black coffee. "Let's changed that. You come with me to SHIELD and we'll arrange something with Fury." he gave her a cup.
Natasha looked at him confused. "Why are you being so nice to me? I almost killed you."
"But you didn't."
"But I could have."
"But you didn't."
"But I could."
Clint laughed., "Listen if you would have wanted to kill me you would have. Frankly, I don't think you have it in you. You're tired and confused. So don't argue." he raised his coffee cup. "So how about a toast? To our future friendship and to a better Natalia Romanov."
Natasha clicked the cup against his. "To our friendship." she paused a bit. "Clint, do you think that instead of Natalia you could call me Natasha?"
"Natasha." the name rolled on his tongue. "Nat. Tasha. Natasha, it has a nice ring to it. And it suits you much better."
"I send you to Budapest so that you could kill her, Barton," Nick Fury barked. "Not adopt her as if she were some freaking stray cat."
"She's not the same person you thought she was, Fury," Clint protested trying to keep up with Fury. "She doesn't like killing, she's been force to do it ever since she was young."
"Not my problem. How will I know that she wont betray us?"
"She wont." Clint insisted. "Just give her a chance. Phil, back me up on this?"
Phil gave them both a weary smile. "She does have an impressive, err casualties record sir. She does speak several languages and she is highly trained."
Fury groaned. "All right. One week. We'll test her for one week. If I'm not satisfied she's out."
"So that's how you ended up working for SHIELD." Bruce replied.
Natasha nodded. "Yep. I meet Fury requirements and me and Clint have been partners ever since."
"So you saved him in the end?" Bruce concluded.
"No," a soft smile appeared on her lips as she took one last sip of coffee. "He saved me."
The End
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