The next morning Barton was up early. He hadn't really gotten much sleep (but really, who would while sleeping next door to the world's deadliest woman) and he decided to use his morning to go for a run and maybe go to the farmers market for some fresh food. He returned to his apartment with fresh strawberries and peaches and some vegetables he thought he might use to make dinner.

Natalia woke with a start, though she remained still, when she heard a crash coming from the next room. She didn't really need time to adjust to her surroundings since she woke up somewhere new every couple days, but the clattering and cursing she heard was new. While she longed for a shower and some clean clothes she had nothing with her. She sighed regretfully and tried to straighten her hair as best she could before leaving the room.

She walked silently over to the barstool she had occupied the previous night and watched the man in the kitchen. He was cleaning something off the floor by the stove and didn't notice her enter the room.

"Good morning." She said quietly, continuing to speak only on Russian. Barton lifted his head to look at her and only then do she realize just how blue his eyes were. A bluish gray really, but incredibly vibrant. She blinked at him.

"And to you," he responded in her language.

Natalia plucked a strawberry out of the bowl sitting in the counter and spun it in her fingers while she pondered her next move.

"What's your name?" She asked, looking at the strawberry rather than him.

"Clint. Well, Clinton Francis Barton really, but everyone calls me Clint. I thought you would've known that, since you found where I live."

"I found your address when I looked in your employer's roster. Only looked for 'Hawkeye'." She finally gave into temptation and bit into the strawberry. She almost melted at how wonderful the taste was.

Clint finished cleaning the floor and started transferring food from the stove onto plates. He set one in front of her and set his own on the counter opposite.

Natalia eyed the food on the plate and looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

"What? It's safe. Go ahead and eat it." She picked up the food cautiously and eyed Clint. He was eating the same thing. "It's a grilled cheese. Pretty simple stuff usually but I use sourdough bread and muenster cheese and I throw just a little paprika on for good measure."

Natalia took a small bite and found that she actually enjoyed it. The two ate in silence and Clint cleared the dishes when they were finished.

"I haven't told S.H.I.E.L.D about you yet. I'm thinking they can wait another week until I'm off medical leave, thanks to you by the way, and we can get to know each other a bit more." Clint had given up speaking Russian but he knew she could understand him. "We need to go shopping too."

"For what?" She asked in response.

"Well, Natalia, if you want to keep staying here you'll need a bed. And I'm sure you want some clean clothes and some shampoo of your own." She looked surprised. "W- I don't mean to assume or anything. I just thought that you probably don't have anywhere else to go and I'm a relatively harmless guy in this situation so-"

"Thank you. Only I wish you wouldn't call me Natalia. I want something different. Something no one in the Red Room ever said to me." She she interrupted quietly, inspecting the bowl of strawberries. It was Clint's turn to look surprised.

"Sure. I'll let you think for a while and you can tell me what you want. You might also want to speak in English. Russian isn't a common language here. Until then, Ikea?"

The two went to a couple of clothes stores first where Natalia eagerly replaced the clothes she'd been wearing for four days with new, clean ones. She had picked out a few pairs of jeans and some nice tops and a leather jacket she couldn't pass up. Then Clint took her to Ikea. Expecting a regular furniture store, Natalia wasn't prepared for what she found, but despite the shock she still managed to pick out a bed and desk she liked and a lamp to light the room. She chose some sheet sets and towels and, at Clint's suggestion, some down pillows and comforters.

The room she had been given was Clint's office and so only had a couch and his desk in it. He pulled his desk out and put it in his own room down the hall and set to work putting together Natalia's furniture.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked from her perch on a large furniture box. She'd never really known someone to do something nice for her without expecting something in return. She knew what most men would've expected and the Red Room taught her to not hesitate in giving that if it meant she could complete her mission. But she didn't think that's what Clint was after. He seemed to understand her pain and, while she didn't fully trust him, she thought he was genuine.

"Well you can't very well sleep on a couch, can you? And you don't look like someone who is terribly willing to build furniture."

She wrinkled her nose at the thought of building anything but she ignored his comment. "I mean, why are you helping me? Letting me stay here? You were sent to kill me, I shot you, and then you let me move in."

Clint stopped what he was doing and say back on his heels, pondering her question.

"You seemed… sad. Like you didn't even care anymore. That and the fact that you didn't kill me when you had several opportunities. Not something people from the Red Room usually do. Especially not someone with your reputation. I was given a second chance and I thought you should get one too."

She thought over his answer and seemed satisfied with it. "Ok. So you mentioned getting to know each other. If this is going to work we should be able to… not trust each other exactly, I don't think that comes easily to either of us, but-"

"I know what you mean. Ok then, ask me something."

"Family?" She asked. It seemed like a simple enough way to start until she saw his muscles tense briefly.

"My parents moved us, me and my brother, to Iowa when I was two. We lived there until my parents died five years later. Then I lived with my brother until he died. Been on my own since."

"What happened to them?"

"Uh-uh. My turn to ask something. How did you get into this business?"

"I don't really remember. I was pretty young. I vaguely recall a fire, and I think I was crying. After that everything I knew was Red Room. I think my parents died in that fire. I overheard someone talking about something to that effect once." Clint was as quiet as he could be while still building her furniture. He waited for her to ask another question and was hoping it wouldn't have to do with his family.

"How old are you?" That caught him off guard but he figured he had asked that of her the previous night so it was only fair.

"Twenty three." he answered, Natalia hiding her surprise much better than Clint seemed to be able to. He righted the now-complete bed frame and nestled it against the wall. He wrestled the mattress across the room and into place. "There ya go. I'll go cook dinner if you want to make your bed. We can ask more questions later." With that, he left the room and Natalia was left to organize her room herself.