Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any of its Characters. Same goes for my previous Chapter.

A/N: Thank you so much to the people who have reviewed, I was so nervous posting this but I really appreciate the feedback. To artemis15sc, thank you for your review! From the movie and the Fics I have read, I have often got the impression that Natasha is quite impulsive. My idea was that she rushed into a situation, and was perhaps ambushed, or the situation got out of hand. I am planning to include a 'Flashback' chapter that will explain why and how she was captured. I intended for this to take place after The Avengers I think, as I want to include some of the other characters in the story. :)

Chapter 2

Clint hesitated. Hand-to-hand combat had always been Natasha's area of expertise. Sure, he was good at it, but there was no way he could take on all ten guards in the room, not with his sore ribs. He raised his hands up slowly, so that they stopped just in front of his shoulders – a sign of surrender. Subtly he hooked his thumb around his bow, and scanned the room using his peripheral vision. The room was practically empty, and the white walls were making it difficult to focus. The lighting was so brighter in this room than it was in the tunnels. To his left he noticed a thick white pipe that lead up through the ceiling, most likely a pressure pipe. He flicked his eyes over to it and noticed a small adhesive sign slapped onto it.

Caution.

He was right, it was a pressurised tube.

In one swift movement Clint Barton had swung his bow off of his shoulder and swiped one of his special arrows from his quiver. A smattering of bullets skimmed the top of his head as he pivoted on the spot, ducking as he did so. He released his arrow into the pipe – and boy did it have the desired effect. For a split second everything was silent... until his arrowhead exploded.

A burst of steam erupted itself out of the pipe puncture, right into the faces of all ten guards. Clint ran towards them, tackling one of the guards that was least effected by his little stunt. He slammed his shoulders against the man's stomach, forcing him to the ground before slamming the edge of his palm into the bridge of his nose. Sitting back on the floor he kicked his legs round, dropping a second guard to the floor. The man clutched at his shin, rocking backwards and forwards.

Clint laughed and ran towards a heavy wrought iron door that appeared to provide his only exit. He glanced back briefly at the guards, most of them lay on the floor, dazed. Scanned the room for an alternative exit, and found a way to get into the air ventilation shafts. He hated being at ground level, and going into the ventilation system would provide him with a perfect way to sneak around the building without being detected. Grabbing on to a pipe similar to the one he pierced, he shimmied up to the silver vent protruding from the ceiling. Clint latched onto the edge of the vent and pulled himself up. He was making a nasty habit of climbing through tiny vents and he wasn't sure he liked it.

The vent was tiny. Its aluminium sides pressed against his shoulders as he crawled along on his hands and knees. He continued along for about 5 minutes, twisting and turning through the tiny space, until he came to an intersection. Straight ahead of him was a dead end, all he could see at the end of it was a small fan. To his left there was an almost immediate corner, and he was doubtful as to whether he could squeeze around it. Why do they have to make everything so small? How am I supposed to sneak around when I can't even fit in the damned ventilation system?

His right seemed like his best option. About three meters down that direction there was a break in the system covered with a grate, presumably leading down into a corridor of some sort. He eased himself down that way, inching towards the gap. Clint shifted so that he lay on his stomach, and listened for signs that anyone was below him. After a few minutes of sitting quietly, he prised up the mesh covering the gap and peered down into the hallway. As far as he could see, there was no one there.

Clint leapt down from the vent, his heavy boots making a soft clunk as he landed. It was too small and wasn't working out for him being in such an enclosed space. His bow had been digging into his shoulders and lower back, and it was starting to become painful. He rolled his shoulders and stretched. The only thing in the corridor was a door to his right. Clint took a deep breath; listened at the door then walked in, bow at the ready.

Upon finding it empty, he walked over a plonked himself down on a leather chair. He sat their resting his ribs, and adjusted the braces on his arm before doing a quick count of his arrows. It was only then that he decided to take a proper look at the room he was standing in. His eyes widened. He was in a surveillance room! There were monitors all around him, displaying every single room in the building. If he could just spot Natasha, then they would be out of here in no time!

Grinning from ear to ear, he jumped up from his seat and poured over the screens, looking for a tell-tale flash of red or perhaps even a static screen. If she'd escaped she would have disabled the cameras. He could track them, and that would give him good idea as to where she was. The monitors didn't reveal anything of significance though. Sighing, he flopped into the leather chair behind him once more. He tipped his head back so that it rested against the back of the chair and stared at the ceiling momentarily before.

If he didn't find Natasha soon, he'd have to enlist some help, and he really did not want to have to ask Stark to help him. Tony was a great laugh, but he was incredibly annoying, and today of all days he could really do without his taunting. Perhaps he could ask Steve. Clint quickly shook that idea out of his head. Cap had a tendency to ask too many questions. Clint dragged his eyes back to the screen once more.

Come on Natasha. Where are you? Clint was getting nervous. He bit his thumb anxiously, and then suddenly - there it was. That little flash of red.

Natasha was being held in the room directly above him.