Although the boy with the bow haunted her dreams for the weeks after the mission in Germany, she hardly thought of him afterwards, as the cruel world of the Red Room pulled her back in.

He was there, though. In the back of her mind, blue eyed and smiling.

But, almost seven years later, as a now twenty-year-old Natalia, the new Black Widow, walked away from the burning hospital, with red curling to the dark sky and staining her overflowing ledger, his face came to the forefront of her mind. The American archer, the teenaged witness she hadn't killed, over half a decade ago. And, while the screaming fire engine rushed to the flaming building, she wondered where he was now.

Probably dead, to be honest. Or in prison.

She sighed and began to make her way through the shadowed back streets of the city, her hand never leaving the holstered Glock. 45, the same type, she remembered, as she'd aimed at him.

The arranged meeting point was situated in the worst part of the city, filled with the people who had sunk to the very lowest, dropped of the map, or simply been born there and failed to escape. She was used to places like this, to people like these. The after-kill check-ins were always in places like this one, so she had no reason to think this one was going to be any different from the others.

Not until she heard the shouting. Then the dull 'thunk' of bullets burying themselves in bodies.

No. Not bullets.

Arrows.

As she moved closer to the sounds, Natalia could feel her heart rate speed up, her feet following suit and carrying her to the entrance of the alleyway where, on the damp, rain-soaked gravel, lay a man she recognised as a Red Room asset. Four metres ahead, there were three more. Each one with a single arrow buried in one eye socket. Each one with the same surprised expression, as if they couldn't quite comprehend what had happened to them.

Her guns were already up, her eyes already searching the alleyway, looking for the archer and praying to whatever gods might be out there that it wasn't her archer. Clint. Because she wouldn't be able to let him get away again.

A slight movement on the shadowed roof of the condemned apartment building to her left alerted her to the archer's hiding place. Both guns were aimed at it in seconds, her heart beating so loudly that it was a wonder the rooftop killer didn't hear it, to.

"Black Widow!" The voice was deep, a man's, which subsequently lowered the chances of it not being him by far too much. And what kind of idiot called out his mark's name when trying to do them in, anyway? A fucking stupid one, obviously, which lowered the chances even more.

A thud to her left told her he had dropped to the ground. He'd given up his height advantage, just as she had done, six years before, walking the rain-slick steps of that Berlin fire escape.

She turned to face him, finding herself at the business end of a loaded bow, with blue-grey eyes locked on to her own green ones.

Well, shit.

He was taller, older, but that was to be expected. He must have been twenty-three or twenty-four, and she watched the eyes of the smiling sixteen-year-old widen as he, in turn, recognised her.

"Natasha?" She almost smiled, because, God, it'd been a while since anyone had called her that. She was hardly ever referred to as anything other than Black Widow anymore.

With that one word, she was fourteen years old again, a bleeding shoulder and shorter hair, a broken rifle and a black hoodie. And him. He was broader as well as taller, his hair close-cropped, wearing dark uniform. They stared at each other, neither one lowering their weapons.

"You know," He said, an expression of disbelief adorning his features, "We've really got to stop meeting like this." She ignored this, fixing him with a sharp glare.

"You." Natalia moved slightly closer and he shut up for a moment (Throw a party! It's a fucking miracle!)

"You're the Black Widow?" She gave a cold look.

"Yes. And you're not a bow-for-hire anymore."

"I'm supposed to kill you." He said, and she noticed the string of his bow became less taunt.

"Well, you'd better get on with it, then. I haven't got all day."

He looked at her, the boy with the bow, right in the eyes, and he let the arrow fall from the string, taking a step backwards. She stared at him, confused, even though her facial expressions gave nothing away.

"What are you doing?" He met her eyes with his again.

"I'm not going to kill you, Natasha. I can't kill you. You didn't choose this. You didn't choose any of this." She shrugged.

"I didn't do anything much to stop it, either." He went on as though she hadn't spoken.

"Before, you were what? Fourteen? The Red Room, they brainwashed you, right? All mind control and shit. You can't choose that." The Red Room, she was surprised he'd even heard of it. Hardly anyone ever had. He was clearly in a very different place to the scruffy-haired, grubby-clothed Clint Barton she'd met in Germany.

"Who do you work for?" She asked, causing him to pause, but only momentarily. He seemed to come to a decision.

"SHEILD. I work for SHEILD." She raised her eyebrows, but gripped the guns tighter.

"SHEILD wants me dead." It wasn't a question.

"A lot of people want you dead" Natalia rolled her eyes at him.

"Tell me something I don't know." He hesitated again, his bow now attached to his belt before blurting out the last thing she'd expected.

"You could come with me."

"What?"

"Come with me, switch sides. Join SHEILD. Leave them." The poor boy actually looked serious.

"Are you fucking insane? Do you actually think SHEILD is just going to forget everything, all the dead agents, the screwed-up missions, and just accept me with open arms? The fucking Black Widow? Are you that naïve?"

"I can talk to them, persuade Coulson to put a good word in for you. Besides," He added, with more than a hint of arrogant pride in his voice, "I'm one of their best agents, I've got some sway in there." She raised her eyebrows again (they were going to stay like that if he didn't stop being an idiot)

"Why should I trust you?" He just blinked at her. She almost smiled, "Go on, give me one good reason." Natalia was expecting him to come out with something about that night, all those years ago. Instead, he opened his mouth and said the last thing she was expecting.

"I can't."

"I'm sorry?"

"I can't," He repeated, "So, I'm not asking you to trust me, I'm asking you to take a chance. An offer. I'm not guaranteeing anything, but I'll do everything I can to get them to take you." There was a sort of heartfelt simplicity in his words that Natalia wasn't sure she'd ever heard someone use genuinely before.

"Why?" She asked, now contemplating lowering her guns. He just shrugged.

"Because I was on your end of this, once, and Coulson, the guy who gave me this offer, he said that, if I was ever in a position to, I should do the same for someone else. So, here we are."

"I doubt this was exactly what he had in mind," she commented, drily, "You, recruiting the Black Widow."

"Black Widow, whatever. I'm recruiting Natasha." He offered her a goofy grin, the same one as his teenaged self, too big for his face. She swallowed.

"Only if you promise me one thing." He nodded, eagerly.

"What?"

"The Red Room, they won't just let me leave, especially after.." She waved at the bodies he'd left around the alleyway,"If they come after me..." She trailed off, looking at him.

"You'll be protected." He answered, firmly. "That, I can do." His expression was serious now. "There's a SHIELD safe house a little way from here. I can contact my handler from there, and then...well, I'll talk to him"

"God, that's so reassuring, Clint." He grinned, his whole face lighting up.

"Hey, you remembered my name!" She raised her eyebrows (again) and shot him a 'well, duh.' look.

"What did you expect?"

"Um, I dunno." He said, shrugging, and began to collect his arrows from the four dead men, pulling them from four eye sockets. Expertly. She watched him place them back into his quiver and begin walking out to the street. He turned, facing her.

"You coming?" Natalia hesitated for a moment, but even an uncertain truce with one assassin-turned-SHIELD-agent was better than the Red Room and what they'd do to her for even considering leaving them.

So, she nodded, slowly, and caught up with Clint.