Disclaimer: I don't own anything accept Katerina/Katya.

Also, TRIGGER WARNING. Suicidal themes in the beginning. Also, there will be blood and gore. This is a story about assassins. Let's not be ridiculous and think it's gonna be all rainbows and butterflies. That said, I'll try to warn if it gets too graphic. This first part is going to be a little graphic, but not too bad.

I'm trying to keep the characters MCU version, but there will be a little of the Comics' background later. I can't guarantee success and let me know what you think, if you think they're in character enough or what. I want to hear from everyone!

Thanks for reading, here it is:

She wasn't sure what to do about the man in front of her. He was a conundrum, something she'd never come across on a case before. There they were, her with a gun pointed at his forehead and him with an arrow pointed at her chest, both of them unwavering, and he had yet to release. He could probably impale her before she'd get a shot off, but he still hadn't let go, instead choosing to stare at her with those storm grey eyes, seeming unconcerned with their current predicament.

She wasn't exactly sure what to do either. He had shown remarkable agility and speed, if the blood still slipping down the side of her face was any indication. Of course, she'd gotten in a few good hits as well, but that was to be expected. She had seen him kill and had wondered if his hand-to-hand was as good as his arrow work and now she had her answer. It was a close one. In fact, she had been pleasantly surprised when he had managed to keep up with her. Not many people could fight her and live to tell the tale. Most didn't even have the endurance to make it last, which was always a disappointment. This man, however, had exceeded expectations.

"You're good." The slight smile on the man's face was enough to convince Katerina that he was completely insane, not that it mattered much. If she could just convince herself to pull the trigger, he would be dead and she wouldn't have to worry about him anymore. Actually pulling the trigger was harder than she had thought it would be, especially considering she could see just a small amount of fear in those storm grey eyes. Enough to convince her he wasn't the stone cold killer they made him out to be. Enough to convince her that maybe killing him wasn't the best idea in the world, no matter the consequences that would befall her if she let him walk away.

"So are you, it seems." She allowed, deciding that having a conversation wasn't the worst idea in the world. If anything, it would allow her time to think about what she was going to do, allow her to figure out what he was after in not killing her. After all, she had seen him kill hundreds of people without batting an eyelash, his partner was the same way. However, when it came to one silly little Russian girl, he couldn't seem to make himself release the arrow that would end her life. Even she had to admit that she would have killed the person opposing her by then should they have hesitated, even if they were only her own age.

"Yeah, well, I've had years of training." He said it proudly, like that was something to be proud of and Katerina stared at him for a moment before she realized he didn't think she was trained. He thought she was still but a child when she had more experiences of the world that he could possibly imagine.

"I have years of training as well." She answered honestly. His eyes clouded for a second and he seemed to be thinking hard, taking in her appearance and age as well as her weapons expertise and her skill at hand-to-hand.

"You fight like someone I know. Are you, by any chance, Russian?" He asked, squinting a little at her features. A small shrug of her supporting arm was all the answer he got. Because she honestly didn't know. She had been raised in Russia among the other Post Room candidates, but there was no saying where she was originally from, though, from the pale blonde of her hair to the almost icy blue of her eyes, she would say she was most likely Northern European. Maybe American even. But she would never know because there were no records, nowhere to look. She was basically without a past. "You're a lot like her, actually."

"The Black Widow and I have much in common." She answered clearly. That was the first time she noticed killing intent in his eyes and she wondered why. She had not threatened his partner, if they could be called that. She had watched them for months, waiting for a time to strike. The Black Widow was not assigned to her, was not assigned to anyone. She was to be left alone. So Katerina had waited and observed for almost a year, finding their routines and rituals amusing and slightly nostalgic.

She was not surprised that he had imagined a slight against his Widow. They had a sort of relationship most wouldn't understand, without kissing or sex but totally reliant on one another. It was like they were lovers without the physical aspect and he was unerringly protective of her as she was of him. Katerina had yearned for that sort of relationship with someone while watching them and maybe that was why she had yet to pull the trigger, had yet to end his life. Because she knew how important he was to someone. And, thinking back, she could remember his kindness, all the attributes the file didn't specify. He could lie, but chose instead to be unerringly honest when given the opportunity. She had never understood them, him, but now, she wondered what it would be like to live like the Black Widow. Free of the Rooms, able to choose her own assignments, able to make connections with people and not have it be a weakness.

"You know Natasha?" The name she had chosen for herself was quite personal in Russian culture, used as a nickname for Natalia only in the closest of settings. How she could handle being called that by people who barely knew her was beyond Katerina, but at least she had a name to call her own when Katerina only had a name given to her, just like the numbers marked into her skin.

"I have been hunting you for some time, Agent Barton." Was her only answer. His eyes narrowed and she watched him do the calculations, trying to figure out when she had started, when she had been there that they didn't know about. She let him try and figure it out and realized when he came to a day, one that was probably about a week off when she had actually first found them.

The day the Black Widow had woken him up and made him grab his go bag in the middle of the night, two forty three in the morning to be exact. They'd left three minutes later and she had driven like a bat out of hell, trying to lose Katerina before switching cars and driving to a SHIELD base where she had listed their occupancy as compromised. A SHIELD retrieval team had been sent to the location the next day to wipe out evidence of their existence before they had moved on again.

"A week before." She answered his unspoken thought, watching as shock registered on his face.

"That was almost a year ago." He reminded her, as if she didn't know. Sure, she'd had her fair share of other assignments during that time, but most of her life the last year had been dedicated to killing Clinton Francis Barton.

"Yes, it was. A year ago next Tuesday." She answered stoically, gauging his reaction. She wasn't prepared for him starting to chuckle.

"So the times Nat finally calmed down?"

"I assume I was on other missions." She answered honestly, watching him. He laughed in earnest now, his eyes crinkling and his chest heaving. His bow didn't waver, the arrow pointing at her heart not moving even a millimeter, but he was obviously enjoying himself. She waited until he calmed a little, her head unconsciously tilted to the right.

"She's going to be pissed when she figures it out." He informed her and she just nodded slightly in agreement, unsure how to respond. Her last acknowledgement of his partner had ended in his anger, she wasn't sure why he found it so funny now. Except that she understood more of their relationship than he realized. She knew that the Black Widow prided herself on her skills and finding out that a nineteen year old assassin had one upped her probably wouldn't tickle her like it did Hawkeye. He didn't seem even a little chastised that Katerina had managed to find him so easily. In fact, he didn't look too upset at all.

The night noises around them had picked up again after their fight, something scavenging in the garbage cans to their right. The blaring sound of a TV disrupted the night from the building to their left and cars honked in the distance. The cool air was enough to have Katerina's fingers going numb and her breath making clouds in the air in front of her. Hawkeye didn't seem bothered by the cold, but Katerina knew he wasn't raised in such temperatures like she was. He had to be cold, but he wasn't shivering, gave no sign he noticed the lowered temperature.

"So, we're at an impasse." Hawkeye offered casually. Katerina's eyes snapped to his and she tried to read the emotion there, trying to figure out what he was going to do about it. She figured that, if he was going to shoot her, he would have done it by then. She knew him well enough to know that he didn't draw out his executions. He wasn't a cruel man.

"I suppose we are." She agreed cautiously.

"You know, it doesn't have to be this way." He motioned to their weapons and Katerina wondered what he meant for a moment. Her mission was to kill him. That was the beginning and end of everything. Either he died here or she did and she wasn't about to let the Room win, not when she was so close. However, that also meant killing the man she had come to almost admire after watching him for so long. "You don't have to kill me. It's just an order and, you know, orders are meant to be broken."

His cheeky grin was enough to make Katerina consider his statement. He was right that it was just an order, but he was wrong too. If she failed her mission and went back, she was a dead girl walking. Even if he didn't kill her, they would. Disobeying orders, walking out of a mission, it would be too much and she would be dead.

"I do not think these are meant to be." She answered slowly, wondering if she was already dead. She had told her handlers she would have him dead by one thirty and it was well past two in the morning. Her lack of return might be enough to send them out, to end her life.

"I think there are places you could go that would be safe if you chose to." He answered carefully. She could practically feel him weighing out his words so as not to set her off, but she could do little to reassure him. She wasn't even sure what to do and that was the most terrifying thing of all.

Taking a careful step back, Katerina watched his reaction. He didn't attempt to follow her, but he took notice, perking up just a bit. He didn't look tired, didn't look worn, even if he had just fought her for almost half an hour before they'd reached their stalemate. He didn't even seem too upset about the blood that was slowly leaking out of his thigh from the knife wound she'd managed to leave him with. The bruising on his face was becoming more pronounced and she wondered if she looked as battered as he did.

Even before they had fought, he'd been on a mission, sitting on the roof of a building for almost two days straight before deciding to take the shot. He'd finished, but not without a fight with some security guys, one who had broken his nose. It was taxing to have to take them out, she could see it in his eyes, but Katerina's fight with him afterward would have been more of a challenge. Even after everything he had been through, he was still cracking jokes and attempting to talk to her. It was like the man she'd seen with Natasha and sent a small bolt of gratitude through Katerina, who was used to being treated like a soulless being. He treated her with the same kindness he showed anyone within his agency and she wasn't quite sure how to handle that.

So she did the only thing she could.

She took the shot.

It happened in a millisecond, but it felt like minutes as her wrist moved just slightly to the right, enough to miss his head completely and slam into the brick wall behind him. He only realized it as he was releasing, the sharp movement of him changing direction of his arrow the last thing she saw before she was impaled by the thing, the sudden hit sending her flying onto her back with the arrow lodged in her gut.

For a moment, there was only shock, that he'd missed, that she was still breathing, that he was running at her, saying something she couldn't understand in that moment.

Shakily, her hand went up to the wound, pressing just below where the arrow was stuck, and coming away sticky with dark fluid, which she knew to be blood. The copper scent and warm tackiness was enough to clue her in without Clint Barton hovering over her like a guilty child, ripping out a medical kit from god knows where and pressing gauze around the wound.

"What the hell were you thinking? I almost killed you!" It seemed to pain him, the thought of her death, but she was having trouble deciphering the English he was using as the pain became more and more unbearable. Even she had her limits and getting shot with an arrow was turning out to be one of them.

"You have five minutes before they arrive to extract me. I suggest you take it." Her Russian accent slipped through, but the message was clear. He needed to leave, before they found her and realized she failed. She didn't need to spell it out for him and that was probably a good thing because her brain was muddled and she was starting to drift between consciousness and unconsciousness.

"They'll kill you if they find you." He reminded her, the pain still evident in his voice. Looking up at him, finding those grey eyes drilling into hers, she nodded.

"Yes, they will." It was an honest answer and, for once, she wasn't afraid of that death. She was ready. Death had been stalking her for years, she was just too stupid to see it. After all the things she'd done, after all the lives she'd taken, she deserved whatever hell came after this life. It was time to stop hurting people. Finally, she'd be allowed to rest. Finally, she'd be allowed to end her own eternal torment. Even in death, she was selfish.

Hawkeye stared at her like she'd just ended her own life, which was what she had intended him to do. He was appalled and more than slightly upset judging by the look on his face. She understood his surprise. She'd seen the Black Widow and knew that a woman like that wouldn't let herself die so easily. She would have put up as much of a fight as possible, probably wouldn't have allowed herself to end up bleeding out in some back alley that stunk like cat urine.

But Katerina wasn't quite that strong and she was so tired. Not just physically, but emotionally. She knew what the punishment would have been and she wasn't going to go back and face it again. Her only redemption would be saving the man who was still trying to stifle the bleeding from her wound.

"It doesn't have to end this way, you could come with me." He offered, his voice strained. She just coughed a little, blood bubbling in the back of her throat. He'd been careful, but had still nicked a lung, which would end in her drowning in her own blood, a painful way to go in any sense. But it was one of the ways she'd imagined it would happen. One of the ways the Room would have allowed her to die. "You've seen what Nat and I do. We work for the government and the World Council. We choose assignments and get paid to do our jobs on a monthly basis. You'd have a place to live, a bunk, aliases all over the world. You'd fight for a cause."

He was trying to sell it, but he didn't seem to realize that it wouldn't matter soon. The cold was already seeping in and she was ready. If he would just leave.

"Three minutes." She forced out, not wanting to try and hope. It was so hard to dream of a life without pain, without nightmares that were so real she couldn't escape them. She just wanted him to go and find safety like she knew he could. Now that he knew about those who were hunting him, he could keep himself safe, maybe not hidden away but able to take care of himself in a way he wasn't before.

"I can help you. Let me help you." He was reduced to begging and she gasped as he moved, forcing her into an upright position. Her hiss of pain was ignored, though she didn't think he meant it that way. He meant it more like he was trying to save her life, the idiotic bastard.

She struggled to find her footing, deciding quickly that she would not lead to his death. He kept an arm wrapped around her waist, above the arrow that still protruded from her abdomen, his strength being enough to convince her to stand. She grit her teeth and forced the pain and wavering consciousness out of her mind, locking it all away in a metal box at the back of her mind. She was determined suddenly to make sure he didn't die because of her, something that had been culminating in her for as long as she'd been watching him.

"How much time do we have?" He asked as they started moving. She steeled herself and started to jog out of the alley, sweat beading on her forehead. The wind threw stray strands of pale blonde hair against the tacky blood on her face and it stuck there, out of her way. Coughing a little again, blood dribbled down her chin, but she didn't have time to wipe it away, instead just ignoring it as she reached up and pulled the pendant off of her neck, glancing around for a place to dispose of it at.

Seeing a car moving past the alley, she threw the necklace at it and was satisfied when it caught on the hitch, her own breathing labored as she started stripping off her weapons as fast as she could while trying not to further the damage.

"What are you doing?!" He sounded concerned, but she just shook her head, doing inventory of the weapons she had that couldn't have been tracked.

"My weapons could theoretically be tracked. Can't keep them." She murmured, letting him lead her around to a van.

"Here." He helped her into the back seat, throwing the med kit he had on him in back with her. Instead of waiting for him to help, instead of waiting for any assistance, she gripped the arrow tightly in one hand, bracing herself against the car door as Hawkeye slid into the front seat and started the van, whipping out of the hiding spot. Gritting her teeth, she ripped the arrow halfway out, the pained grunt catching her target's attention. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Keep driving." She ordered, ignoring his skepticism. Gripping the shaft of the arrow, which was covered in her blood, she gave another good yank and almost passed out as the arrow slid out of her stomach, splattering the seat around her in red liquid. She felt only slightly bad about the mess as she ripped open a package of gauze and tried to stem the flow, a torrent of curses flowing from her mouth as she poured antiseptic onto the wound.

Another few packages of gauze and she could practically feel the relief as her mind went into full on shock, leaving her with nothing but black edged vision and the sound of someone yelling at her to stay awake.

So, first chapter's up. Tell me what you think!

Angelbaby1231