2009, Odessa, Ukraine. 25 Years old

"It's simple, sir. I'm just escorting you for your protection." Natasha reminded the older scientist who seemed very much unsettled by her. She had just ushered him to the vehicle.

This was her first solo mission for S.H.I.E.L.D., seeing as Laura and Clint wasted no time having another baby. A girl, Clint had called her early that morning as she was flying from headquarters to Ukraine. Fury thought Clint was sick, the flu having wiped out half of the other members of headquarters over the past two weeks.

She was dressed in her finest uniform yet. A lycra body suit meant to aid her in everything she did. She loved it. The fabric didn't restrict. Holsters around her thigh and calf held guns. A utility belt swept down across her hips holding bullets, her garrote, and a knife or two. Around her wrists were the real deal, her widow's bites. Electrified bands that stunned. Technology aided her and she loved it. She wondered how much easier her Russian missions would have been if she had been allowed a cellphone, tablet or a laptop. A communication device nestled in her ear allowing her to directly contact headquarters for help.

She sat in the back seat with the scientist as an armed Ukrainian soldier drove them to the airstrip.

The scientist had been threatened over the years and extricating him from the Ukraine failed three times, killing another S.H.I.E.L.D. agent last year. Fury didn't think or trust Natasha on her own but now he had no choice. Her familiarity with Ukrainian language made his job easier, even if Fury wasn't ready to admit that yet.

An hour into the mission the tires blew out on and sent the vehicle careening into the ditch. The shock of the impact nearly threw her from her seat. The vehicle was upside down, as she unbuckled herself and dropped down.

"Що ти ударив?" ("What did you hit?") she gasped in Ukrainian.

The soldier turned to answer when a wave of bullets shattered the windshield. The solders blood spattered across her face. She cursed and unbuckled the scientist. Shielding him from the onslaught of glass and bullets.

""Зберіться!" ("Stay down!") she hissed and kicked the door open. She drew her guns and peered over the tires. A man dressed in a black military uniform was standing in the road. His machine gun still hailing down bullets on the vehicle.

She reached for the scientist, tugging him out of the car and behind her body. She breathed slowly, "Vehicle down. Soldier is dead. Unknown suspect firing at us. I need intel." She radioed to headquarters.

"Air support is 4 minutes out" Maria Hill chimed in.

"I don't have 4 minutes!" She hissed.

Natasha peered over the tire and studied the man as he walked closer. A mask obscured his mouth and nose making his features unreadable. Goggles protected his eyes. She took her first shot, hitting him square in the shoulder. A metallic ringing sounded and he was unphased. Armor? She hissed as he ran towards the vehicle now.

She pushed the scientist back, retreating to the back of the upturned truck. She pushed him into the space between the ground and the truck bed. She hurled herself upwards again and fired at him. With her left hand, she fished an explosive from her pocket. She hurled it at him as it exploded. Knocking him back. When the smoke cleared, he was laying on the ground.

Taking the chance she motioned for the man to get behind her again as she spotted a grove of evergreens that she could hide the scientist. She kept her eyes trained on the man in the road as she ran. The scientist slowed her down, stumbling as she hurried. Distracted in one moment she watched the man move. Dead filled her as they were in the wide open, a storm of bullets rushed upon them.

Searing pain erupted on her abdomen. A stomach hit. She dropped to her knees. Stemming the blood, the scientist laid motionless the same shot passed through her to him.

"I'm hit.." She gasped. "Scientist is dead."

Her ears were ringing as she dragged herself up, grabbing her second gun as the man rounded on her again. She finally got a look at him. The blast has been effective. His clothing tattered, the mask and goggles gone.

Even dirty from smoke and gunfire her blood ran cold with recognition. The silver metallic arm. "James…" She gasped. He was standing before her in the flesh.

Except it wasn't him. He wasn't the boy she loved all those years ago. He was a man now. Stronger than before. Weathered. He hadn't died, he was alive. Was he still in the fake KGB's control.

"James!" She coughed. Trying anything to stall him. He paused for only a second before slamming another clip into his gun. He was going to kill her. Natasha grit her teeth and threw a stunning disc at him, it hooked into his leg and he dropped for a few moments before flinging it away.

"Don't make me do it…" she breathed, blood blossoming under her on the gravel. "Don't make me kill you..." She slipped her finger over the trigger.

The air support dropped to the ground raining bullets down at him. Natasha blinked and watched him retreat. He was gone in an instant. She gasped for air as agents took to the street and cleaned up.

"Romanoff, status?" Maria called into her ear.

"Not good." Natasha panted as an agent hauled her up.

It was a blur. She passed out or was knocked out, she wasn't sure. When she woke she was bandaged up in the jet. The mission was labeled a failure. Fury called her for a meeting but she never turned up. She left the hangar and went to her room, stuffing things in a bag and changing her clothes. Someone had taken the time to clean her up in flight but she could still smell blood and the hot smell of ammunition. She hurried to the garage where her car sat and sped off. Her blue Camaro zipped through the stormy New York weather in the northward direction of Clint's farm. She hated the car initially, as Clint insisted that a master assassin needed a sexy car. Now she was thankful that it was fast.

She pulled onto the dirt driveway and parked near the house. Thunder and torrential rain pounded the car. She felt guilty for coming when Clint and Laura were probably over run with new baby duties. The little girl was only a few hours old. Clint said once, if she ever needed to escape she had a room with them. Did that apply when they had a new baby.? She felt stupid. Her breathing was ragged, her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.

The door opened and Clint slid into the passenger seat. He seemed to always be wearing flannel and t-shirts which she endlessly teased him about looking dad-ish.

"Nat…" He said quietly. "Fury called… Said you might be on the run."

"I'm sorry I came… I shouldn't have." She said quickly.

"That's bullshit. What happened? He said you were shot." He pressed, "Don't you heal quick, it'll be gone by morning." He couldn't believe that she looked so upset, so visibly shaken over a gunshot wound.

"It's…" She couldn't say it. "I can't… I saw something… someone who's not supposed to be alive."

Clint grabbed her arm, concerned now. "Like you're seeing things? Like that kid in the movie who sees dead people?"

She appreciated his joke and gave him a weak smile, "No.. Someone who disappeared from my life. I thought they were dead. He shot me…"

"Shit.. Nat, did you tell Fury? They're trying to figure out who that is."

She shook her head and tears leaked from her eyes. "Can I crash here? Will Laura mind?"

Clint had never seen her cry and sighed. "You know you never have to ask, Nat. She's resting with the baby. Cooper is down for the night. You know she won't mind, she loves you. C'mon." He got out of the car and went around in the rain to open her door. He helped her as she seemed reluctant to move.

The Barton's farm house filled her with a warm feeling that she could only identify as what being with family felt like. Clint left her alone after he insisted she eat. Hours later she was holed up in the guest room they often just called her room. She showered and put on fresh leggings, a new loose sweater and thick socks. She redressed her wound and tried to pay attention to a mindless TV show on the TV. But it didn't matter her mind was elsewhere. The memories and feelings she repressed years ago were back.

Her fingers flipped through the 3 pictures she still had. That she hadn't looked at for almost 6 years. Not since she found them and subsequently stashed them away to hide from her feelings.

It was well after midnight when a knock came from the door and Clint entered. "Thought Auntie Nat would like to meet the next little one to be obsessed with her."

Natasha set the pictures down and sat up. Clint sat on the bed and handed over the tiny baby.

Natasha tucked the little girl into her arms and smiled. She was perfect, fast asleep and warm in her arms. "Hi, baby…" She whispered and let the little girl wrap her fingers around her pinky.

"Lila." Clint added proudly.

She gently rocked with the baby just lost in the distraction it offered. "Sure you want to be an agent still, I think you do a better job making cute babies." She teased.

After a while Clint settled in and watched the movie as she was content to hold the baby and heal.

"You gonna tell me about what's really going on?" He asked quietly.

She had no secrets from Clint. He told her everything and she told him all the worst about herself. Never once did he judge. He just understood. She never mentioned what she knew she should probably tell him.

"If I tell you, you can't tell a soul." Natasha warned.

"Does Laura count?" He reminded.

"No, you know she figures out everything before you do anyway." Natasha sighed and handed him the 3 pictures. He thumbed through them studying the scenes in them.

"Aside from being the perfect student in the Red Room, I was also the stupidest." She started. "For a while they trained boys to be these elite soldiers. The biggest rule was that we don't interact with them. I sparred with one of them one day and he damn near broke my arm, dislocated it in minutes. He had a metal hand. He was impossible to beat. After that day we kept talking. He'd hide notes and I'd find them. We'd hid in closets just to talk. It happened for a year before real feelings took hold. We snuck out of the academy one night and went to that carnival. He swept me off my feet." She breathed and looked down at the baby who murmured in her sleep sweetly.

Clint found the picture where her younger self was kissing the boy. "Soviet romance?"

She laughed quietly and nodded, "I fell in love that night. I was foolish enough to think we could be anything. The whole purpose of the Red Room was to create killers with no attachments. They made sure of that. When I passed all of my tests there's a ceremony."

"Like caps and gowns, Soviet style?" He poked at her.

She didn't quite know what he meant about that. "No, the handcuff you to a table and forcibly sterilize you style. No distractions, no one that could possibly ever be more important that a kill count and mission." She looked at perfect little Lila in her arms. She didn't have to look over to know Clint was horrified.

"Nat…" He said softly. Now it made sense to him that she adored his kids. That she so easily baby sat and didn't accept their money for it.

"It's okay." She said softly, her voice wavering now. Knowing that her procedure wasn't even the worst part of the story she was telling.

"That's bullshit, you know that."

"I woke up from the procedure and everyone was upset. I was sent to brainwashing for something like a week. They starved me, tortured me and then when I was almost dead they told me why." She looked up at the ceiling. "I was pregnant before the procedure. I had failed them and broken the biggest rules. I didn't even know it.. I had been with him only 4 or 5 times. Stupid in love and not thinking about the possibility of me getting pregnant."

Clint silently listened as she wiped at her eyes. "They killed the 4 other soldiers because I wouldn't confess that it was him I had slept with. They have these machines, with a press of a button they wipe your memory. They wiped his in front of me when they figured it out. I had to watch him forget everything about me. Once he was done, they wiped mine."

He rested his hand on her shoulder as she visibly fought the tears. "For a while it worked. I was the perfect assassin. I did missions and worked. I didn't remember anything. Just that I had loved someone once. I ran into him one day and our fingers brushed. It was like electricity, I remembered everything with one touch. That night I tried to get him to remember. I tried everything. I was only able to get him to remember the thought of me. Not my name. He only remembered that I was familiar. After that last night with him, I slept with him hoping that it would make him remember. The worst decision of my life. He was a week after that and I hadn't seen or heard of him until today. I had pushed him so far away, locked those memories up tight and it was like I almost forgot. Then he comes out of the blue, ruins my mission, shots me and runs off into the god damn sunset."

Clint looked at a loss for words. Like he couldn't fathom this type of thing happening to people. He had always thought there was a sadness to her that he dared to never bring up. Now he knew he was right about that. How could anyone experience that and be okay. It was a testament to her strength. That despite the horrors done to her, she picked herself back up and kept going.

She blinked back tears, "I had my suspicions. When the intelligence community kept talking about a Russian assassin, I figured it was just still talk about me. But the mechanical arm. I thought it was a rumor. I didn't think he was alive. People call him the Winter Soldier. That was the programs name."

Clint rubbed his faced and looked over at her. "You don't want me to tell because you still love him?"

Natasha hadn't worked that out for herself yet. "I don't know, Clint. I think so.. I loved him when I was 17. I was young."

"You're still young, have you tried to move on?" He asked gently.

"After him I didn't want to. World class assassins don't date." She admitted.

"You're not an assassin anymore." Clint reminded.

Natasha nodded, as Lila stirred and started to cry. "This is where I take my leave…" she handed the baby off to Clint.

He got up, "You going to be okay?"

"Sure. I was okay all those years ago.. I just need to process." She breathed and scooted back down into the bed.