I barely remembered the surgery, nor the skin graph, but when I woke up I could feel all they had done. I was all wrapped up and I had stitches everywhere. But after a couple months of rehab I was up and running. Well, more or less.

"Roll, your, foot, out," the SHIELD physician chided.

"I am," she looked at me with a nonplused expression.

"I'm trying to at least," I tried. She didn't want to believe me, but after two months of extreme rehab she knew just how bad I wanted to get back in the game. I truly had tried, so hard that I had completely healed just about everything. I had regained 90% of my original range of motion in my knee and hip. My concussion was gone within a day or two after reaching the hospital. I had worked hardest on my shoulder though, and it had finally paid off. I tested out with 100% range of motion growth and now my aim was stronger and clearer. I originally could shoot pretty well, but now, I had extreme range of motion and zero knock back effects when shooting. My elbow could withstand just about any bow strength. My other arm had lagged behind a little but with some weight training it was pulling its own now too. I could bench 300 pounds and run a marathon in under 12 hours.

But all of this training wasn't for nothing. I had a goal. Next time I found her, she would be the one helpless. I would ever let someone get so close ever again. My job was to protect people, not lay their lifeless with the enemy almost unharmed. When I had gone through the fight with her I knew I had hit her by the limp I witnessed (thank you awesome eyesight). Turns out I had caught her on the calf with the arrow I released before the whole ordeal. From that I got a small blood sample. It was barely enough but I was able to figure out who she was. Her name was Natasha Romanoff and she had been volunteered up to a group called The Organization that trained assassins. But she was unlike all the others I had seen from this group. She hunted people, played with them and their minds. It was like some kind of game she enjoyed. All the other girls had simply hit their target without them ever knowing they were ever there. Natasha would make herself very much of a public part of the background. She would get in close and strike like a snake under their noses. This is why I found her hunting a specific member of the British Parliament. And now from what Fury has told me she has a job in Budapest. It seemed they didn't mind the distance between kill sites since the one where she beat the living snot out of me was in Madrid. Now she was taking on a multibillionaire who had upset The Organization. Our inside guy, after being beaten and left to die in the winter chill of the Russian wastelands, managed to report she hadn't been told of her mission yet.

This news sort of caught me off guard. Not going to lie but from what I had seen this organization never waited. They were not patient, their girls were. They would send the girl immediately and then expect the girl to get it over with in a "timely nature". It seems Natasha was a repeat offender of taking her time on jobs. Having fun with them. The only reason The Organization hadn't "terminated her position" was because it brought in contacts for them. But it seems they had gotten rather upset with her recently. They had beaten her down and left her alone on one of the roofs for three days with no food or clothing. She was given one slice of bread and a glass of water each day and told to "make it last girl. Else we will just leave you up here longer."

When I found that out I suddenly felt pity. I knew the reason they were upset was because she had left me alive when she could have very well killed me. In a sense I owed her, and that bothered me. It never sits well when, by sparing someone's life, you are in turn beaten and left to freeze to death.

There had been no news if further punishment had been added, or worse, if she hadn't made it through the original punishment. It had been two months and from what I heard from our guy, their punishments were rather… brutal. I shuddered at the thought of dying at their hands. It made her beating seem almost kind.

"Are you cold?" the physician asked.

"Nah, just a drop of sweat went down my back," I replied as I trekked on.

"Bull. You haven't been running more than 15 minutes. Pick it up bird boy," she taunted and for a minute I imagined that it was something Natasha would have said. I wondered how hard they had trained her. How long had it taken for her to get that skilled and to refine that skill so well? My recent growth in power, speed, and durability were considered amazing by medical terms. So what was she to them? A miracle? When I, in a drugged haze mind you, explained how she had fought, the nurses they told me the concussion had distorted my memory. And when I told Mrs. Physician lady she said it was impossible for someone to be so graceful and powerful. They would have to be a god to be that good. Then how had she been so good? I had been pondering this question for a while and found I never got anywhere.

BZZZZZZ

BZZZZZZ

"Ma'am, that's my phone buzzing," I looked at her quizzically.

"Like I'm going to stop you," she said waving me off.

When I got off the tread mill my phone stopped. Whatever it had been I missed it. I pulled out my phone and looked at the number. Registered restriction. It was my wife! I hurried and called her back. It had been too long since I had heard her voice, even though that was just last night. That might explain why I tapped my foot with impatience for her to answer.

"Clint?" her voice was just as wonderful as ever!

"Hi honey! Yes, it's me. How are the kids? How are you? What have you done today?" it all spilled out of my mouth like water from as spout. I sounded like a babbling idiot. Thank god the physician lady was off doing something in the distance. I watched her and took on a casual stance. People didn't know about my family and I had to be careful to keep it that way.

"Hahahaha, slow down there Mr. Barton. You're going to tear something!" her laughter made butterflies happen in my stomach. I loved this woman so much.

"Okay, well let's start with the basics. How are you?" I asked.

"No different from last night or the past few months my dear. Just happy you're doing well. I still wish you could come home but I know how much finding her means to you," she replied.

"You know that I'm finding her because she is too good of an operative to let walk around doing whatever this murderous group wants. Right?" as I asked this I watched the Physician and noticed something strange. She was talking to someone. Not that her talking to someone was strange, but that she seemed petrified.

"Everyone is doing well love. Oh lord your eldest daughter just spilled everywhere I have to go. I will call you tonight okay?" my wife's voice brought me back to the conversation.

"Thank god I am here then. I love you and will talk to you later. Bye," I said and quickly hung up. I fully intended to walk up to the physician and ask a whole bunch of blunt questions but decided it was better to slip behind a door and listen. Call it instinct but for some reason I knew I wanted to hear this.

"How is he?" the voice was barely a hiss. I couldn't make out a gender or accent of any kind.

"Doing well ma'am," the physician responded. Her voice trembled as though she were about to cry.

"Is he healed enough yet for what I asked for?" the voice whispered again, this time with a darker demeanor. What did this stranger want?

"Not yet ma'am," Mrs. Physician cringed as the words came out. Clearly this is not what the mystery person wanted to hear.

"This is not the news I was hoping for. Alas, it seems I will have to be patient. Yes?" the voice was now dripping with sarcasm and definitely female. And then I saw it, out of the corner of the hat. One single tiny clump of strands dangled gently out of the hat. They were a bright, fiery shade of red.

"HEY!" I called as I dashed around the corner. But by the time I reached the physician Natasha was gone. Probably so long gone I was S.O.L. to find her. Not without more stamina built up. I was worn out from my exercises.

"Where did she go?! How long has she been following my progress?" I turned and berated the physician with questions. Her only response was to break into sobs and crash to the ground.

"Listen, you need to tell me what you know. I can stop whatever she will do to you or your family, but first you have to tell me what you know!" I shook her and tried to rattle her out of her sobs but gained no ground until finally another lady, the desk woman, came back and led me to a room where I could lay down the physician.

"She has been coming around since about three or so weeks after you joined. At first she threatened us and told us she would kill us and our families if you didn't survive. She never let us know who she was or why she cared. Only that you had to be able to heal fully or we would never see another day. She watched our progress with every visit. Even going through the effort to disguise herself well enough to be able to stand in the waiting room during your surgeries. At times she seemed like she cared about your wellbeing, other times, it felt as though she was only preparing you to kill you. We fought over how to treat you and what way to do it best. Ms. Carlston felt her life and children were the most at stake so she took the lead as your head physician. She put herself at risk the most out of all of us." The woman spoke this with such vigor, yet under it was a fear, a fear that only a woman with children and a husband would know.

"She won't hurt your families. I know well enough she doesn't care to kill innocent people unless she has to or is ordered to. You will all be fine. Do you know anything about where she would be for me to find her?" I asked the woman.

"You were supposed to be sent to a certain place after we dubbed you back to your best. I'm afraid I can't tell you because no one ever told me. Only Mrs. Carlston knows. And as you can see, we aren't going to get much out of her for now," she responded.

I wasn't taking no for an answer. I bent down next to the whimpering woman lying on the table.

"Listen, you need to tell me where I am supposed to meet the woman with the red hair. It is for the good of every single person on this planet that I meet her. Do you understand?" I stared deep into her eyes and held her still. She looked at me and only terror seemed to fill her eyes.

"You have to tell me or else something bad may happen," I said to her and her eyes immediately got a lot wider. They were like dinner plates now.

"In the Sharon Gardens part of the Kensico Cemetery," the woman managed to tremble out.

"I will go there and end this. Your family will be safe. I promise," I swore this to the woman and to myself. Natasha wasn't going to be doing any more killing for The Organization. She was going to be doing killing for SHIELD.

I told myself this as I left the hospital. But could I do it?