Natalia woke suddenly; she was groggy and disorientated but composed herself quickly
"How long was I out?" she asked, trying to stand up too quickly; she winced in pain
"Stay there, a few hours"
"Exactly Barton?" she signed, resigning herself to struggle to sit, allowing Clint a place to perch beside her on the small sofa other than the floor where he's been sat all evening
"4 or 5. Don't know for sure"
"We've got to move!" fear flashed across her face for just a moment
"It's okay, I think we got rid of all them goons, they're not going to send anyone else after us"
"They might not..." the statement put Clint instantly on edge. She sensed his unspoken question and continued;
"They have protocol for something like this. I represent millions of dollars of research, years of training, conditioning and experimentation. They're not going to let me just walk away..."
The word 'experimentation' sent a shiver down Clint's spine
"Natalia" she grimaced at her name, "That's your name isn't it?"
"It's what they've always called me"
"You don't like it?" she shrugged, she didn't know who she was any more
"New name for a new life?" he offered
She looked at him, like a child would look at someone offering them a gift, and nodded; "you pick" she asked him
"Okay, but do something for me first?"
She frowned deeply now, shifting away from him slightly
"I knew there'd be a catch"
"No, nothing like that, just; tell me about you. Tell me everything there is to know about Natalia Romanova before she disappears forever. I promise I will never ask you anything about your past again, you can lie through your teeth to shield; I don't care, and I'll never mention it again. Just tell me?"
Natalia considered that for a moment, in a few moment Natalia Romanova would no longer exist, and she felt she owed him at least that much; he'd risked everything for her.
"I was born in Stalingrad, my parents were loving people who had lost their daughter before me; pneumonia. One day when I was four my father had a disagreement with a man, he was a bad man who wanted something from him. My dad refused and that evening my parents packed up our belongings; we were to leave for a new life in America the following day... They told me it was to keep me safe. They always promised to protect me; no matter what. but they couldn't protect me from him.
That night they were murdered. Our house was set alight and they perished. I was in the hospital for the next few days; the man who saved me from the fire came and took me away. His name was Ivan Petrovitch; he was the man who had threatened my father and murdered my parents.
I was enrolled in the Black Widow program. I was beaten and tortured, forced to do things no child ever should. We were trained in weapons, combat and espionage. Only the best survived. They played with our minds, poking and prodding; taking away what they didn't want and forcing fake memories in. They broke us down and remade us so many times I started to forget who I was. Each day was a fight for survival; a trial. If you didn't make it through you were terminated. I was forced to do my first kill at 11, she was a girl of 8 who had failed in her training, she was subpar and deemed worthless. She was my friend and I was forced to shoot her, if I didn't I would be killed too. Ivan was my mentor throughout my training, I was always a favourite of his and he paid me special attention. I was successful, and completed my first mission at 13. That brings me to now; the Red Room assigns me missions, I complete them with no questions asked, asking questions get you killed"
It was certainly a lot more than he got from the shield file on her; 'Child assassin, ties to red room programme, extremely dangerous
"How long have you felt this way?"
"Like what?"
"Like you want to die?"
"Since I was four years old"
The brutal honesty made Clint pause, how could someone so young have been through so much pain and still be standing?
"How old are you?" he wondered out loud
"16" she told him quietly, he thought she looked younger. he took a minute to school his features so the pity and anger he felt weren't evident;
"Okay Natasha, let's go"
"Natasha?"
"Is that okay"
"Yes. Thank you Barton"
"Clint"
"Clint" a small smiled tugged at her mouth, before being replaced with a more serious expression
"Clint, I need you to do something for me?"
"Something else?" he joked, but sensing her tone he nodded in agreement
"If they succeed, if they find me; don't let them take me. I'd rather be dead than go back to that place"
"I won't let them-"
"Clint, promise me, promise me that if it comes down to it you can do it, you can take the shot" she gripped his hand, pleading. It was the first physical contact between them that hadn't been purely out of necessity
"Natasha"
"I need you to promise me Clint, please?"
"Okay, I promise, but there's no way in hell I'll let them get that far..."