So, this story is actually going pretty well in my opinion. I've been working pretty hard on this story and I hope you guys can tell. This chapter is super short, but it is also super important.

I DO NOT own The Avengers or Marvel!

Words, what the hell were they good for. There weren't any intelligent words to describe what he was brewing inside of his body. Clint stood in Natasha's room fuming. He had been looking for her all week and had finally returned to her room. There he found the passcode had been reset and an empty room. The bed had been neatly made, the dresser was empty, the closet was cleaned out, her pictures had been removed from the wall and most of all, she was no where in sight. He caught sight of a picture on her bed and inched closer to investigate. He recognized the picture; it had been taken only a few months earlier on his twenty-first birthday. Natasha and him were both smiling like idiots with drinks in hand. Coulson was standing behind them smiling just as wide. All three were in some rundown bar with party hats on their heads. Natasha was holding a whistle in her hand and was practically sitting on Clint.

Clint turned the picture over in his hand and saw Natasha's fine cursive print on the back. She had written 'my family' sloppily in black ink with a little smiley face beneath it. There was practically steam blowing out of hi ears when he stormed into Phil's office. Coulson's face was blank when he saw Clint. He caught a glimpse of the picture Clint was holding in a death grip in his hand. Phil had been expecting him to show up in his office pissed off. In all honesty, Phil wasn't happy Natasha had asked for reassignment immediately. Despite his doubts, he granted a new assignment on a SHIELD base in Europe.

"I assume you know," Phil said calmly. He too wanted to blow up like Clint and do everything he knew was pointless. However, he also knew that nothing would change her mind and keep her here. In all four years he had known her, he had learned that she was just as stubborn as Clint. And that's why Clint was standing in his office ready to kill the next person to cross him.

"How long had she been planning to leave me," Clint demanded.

"Over a month ago," Coulson said. He wasn't going to deny the fact that Natasha had been running from him when she left. Clint knew he was right too; they had slept together over a month ago and nothing had been the same since. Why did he have to come up with that stupid idea? Why did she have to agree to it?

"Where did Natasha go?" Clint asked desperately rubbing his head.

"I've been directed by Agent Romanoff herself to keep that information classified," Phil said pulling an envelope from out of a drawer. "However, Natasha asked me to give this to you."

Clint took it from his handler and silently exited the room. He didn't want to read the letter so it landed with a thud on his nightstand. Clint flopped onto his bed face first and screamed into the bed. He kept trying to tell himself that this wasn't his fault, but he knew it was. Everyone knew it was even if they didn't know exactly how it connected to him. They knew that one of the best agents SHIELD had ever seen was gone and the balme fell onto her partner's shoulders somehow.

She had done it, Natasha had left. That was the only out she saw, leaving the whole mess her emotions had created behind. And that's all she knew how to do, run. Run away from anything that she didn't want to deal with.

On Natasha's eighteenth birthday, she received two phone calls that she declined. On Natasha's and Clint's fourth anniversary, she was too drunk to answer the phone. Nor could she feel the pain that was taking over her heart. On Clint's twenty-second birthday, Natasha couldn't muster the courage to call him. She couldn't have even if she wanted to. Natasha was fighting a group of mutated men. At least, she assumed they were men based on their fighting strategies, physically they were to deformed to determine whether they were male of female. Her long curly hair had been singed to a short length by an unknown source. The stitches on her shoulder had been reopened and there was blood gushing down her arms. And the scariest factor of that entire moment was that Clint was haunting her mind. She then realized that just because she had run from him didn't mean that she could forget him. She hated it. She hated that for the first time in a long time, she wasn't in control of herself anymore. And she hated that it was because of her best friend.

Like Clint, she blamed it all on herself.

What did you think? Please review!

Love,

Kaylie

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