( And that's what she'd been afraid of. Natasha might have been a living weapon, fashioned by the Red Room and sharpened until she had a deadly edge, but Clint with a bow in his hand was enough to give even her pause. Clint with a bow and nothing holding him back, no remorse or compassion, that was terrifying. She didn't want to go through this again, didn't want to fight him, but there was no way she was going to leave him in Loki's control without at least trying.
She was moving in the space of a breath, throwing herself out of the way of the arrow and coming back up with a knife in her hand. She wouldn't use her gun, not here. Not when she had no idea what sort of medical supplies were around. She was trying to save Clint. Not kill him. Throwing the knife, she aimed for the hand holding the bow, hoping to get him to release his hold so she could fight him safely. )
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She was moving in the space of a breath, throwing herself out of the way of the arrow and coming back up with a knife in her hand. She wouldn't use her gun, not here. Not when she had no idea what sort of medical supplies were around. She was trying to save Clint. Not kill him. Throwing the knife, she aimed for the hand holding the bow, hoping to get him to release his hold so she could fight him safely. )