Chapter Text
December 2012 - Alaskan Wilderness
Alaska was quiet.
Alaska was quiet, and the cabin he'd been hiding in for the past few months was isolated. The nearest village was miles away, accessible by a half-hour snowmobile ride. The wolves that paced around the icy woods were the only company, though Clint was fairly convinced a Bigfoot or Yeti or something had to be around there. Either way, human company was not something readily available.
The isolation was more than enough for Clint Barton. In fact, it was exactly what he wanted.
He didn’t own the cabin. Fury did, claiming it was one of his least used safe houses - probably because it was in the middle of nowhere Alaska. Fury offered it to him when he realized that Clint needed to step away from everything – from SHIELD, from civilization, from himself. He'd been drowning in the guilt, and Fury had thrown him a lifeline in his trademarked gruff manner.
When the winter storms were bad enough, he could take out his hearing aids and toss them in a drawer. To some people, the isolation combined with silence would be enough to drive them mad. To Clint, silence was so much easier to blank away from everything. Silence made it easier for him to flee from thoughts he didn’t want to acknowledge.
And besides - Clint had been on the edge of madness before. It was nothing new.
There was a small village about a half hour’s snow mobile ride away. There was an off-the-books SHIELD Base called Providence an hour or two away over the Canadian border, but he preferred to go to the village. He wanted nothing to do with SHIELD at the moment, even if Providence was all but empty. And besides, Koenig was weird.
Clint went to town every few weeks, to pick up supplies and make sure he hadn’t missed another alien invasion. Never knew with how the world was changing. Alien invasions might become regular events. His December trip occurred about two days before Christmas, over six months after the Battle of New York, and when he discovered his order at the general store wasn’t ready, he went to the bar.
He pushed the door of the bar open, tugging his hat off and shaking the snow out of his hair. His gray eyes flickered over the bar and its denizens, as paranoid and cautious as he’d ever been. Clint was far more paranoid than he’d been months before. Then again, that was what happened when you were put under a spell by a psychotic god.
Clint sat at the bar and ordered his rum and coke. He’d been there once or twice a month for six months, and the people in the bar knew to leave him alone. They just thought of him as an odd hermit who lived a few miles out, didn’t work on the boats or logging, and just minded his own business. That was enough for the people of this village to accept him.
He drank quietly, nodding in confirmation when the bartender asked if he wanted his usual food. He wouldn’t mind having decent food. He was not much of a cook, as hard as he tried at times. Dinner here might keep him in the warmth a bit longer before he went back on the trek back to the cabin.
Then he looked towards the single television in the bar, saw what was playing, and felt his stomach drop to the floor.
TONY STARK MISSING, PRESUMED DEAD FOLLOWING TERRORIST ATTACK.
Clint’s head snapped back when he saw it. It took a moment for him to comprehend it. Stark was presumed dead. Something big had happened. The volume was down low, whatever he could hear drowned out by the sounds of men’s voices and the jukebox, but he was skilled enough at lip reading to get some of it.
There'd been a terrorist attack at the Chinese Theater a few days before. One of Stark's longtime friends had been seriously injured, and Stark either had the balls of lack of brains to threaten the Mandarin of the Ten Rings on television. And then proceeded to give the world his home address.
Tony Stark was the dumbest genius Clint knew. There was no comparison.
“Shit,” Clint muttered, gray eyes wide. He moved to his feet, moving to grab the long-distance burner phone he kept in his pants' pocket. He didn't look back at the television as he moved to the bathroom, locking the door behind him and leaning against it, letting his weight rest.
He didn’t know what he could do. He was in Alaska. He was in Alaska with no way to get to the continental United States, and Stark was more than likely dead.
But a few months before, Stark fought at his side in an alien invasion. And Clint Barton protected his friends, whether he be on a building up above or a thousand miles away in the middle of nowhere.
Clint unlocked the phone, calling the one saved contact and setting it against his ear as he locked the bathroom door. Only one person had this burner's number. He only had a single person's contact information saved on it, a single picture. It was meant as a way to get in touch with her in an emergency. Tony Stark being blown up in a terrorist attack counted as an emergency.
He waited for an answer. The ringing continued, one after another, a continuous medley of no answer.
Clint was about to hang up the phone when a surprised voice at last came on. “Barton? What’s going on, why are you calling?”
He ignored the edge of annoyance in her voice, and the slight stab of hurt that came from him. “Is Stark dead?” Clint demanded, taking a deep breath. He rested his arm against the bathroom wall, forehead against it. “I just saw the news. Did SHIELD… did we find a body?”
Clint had attended the operations academy for a single year. It was long enough to drill in a single rule: assume survival unless there’s a corpse. It’d saved him and Natasha’s asses more than a few times over the years. And if they didn’t have Stark’s body, then he very well might be alive.
“We don’t know. We haven't found the body, but the rubble is bad, and the ocean is right there,” the voice on the other end said in a grim tone. “Right now, Fury has us focused on finding the Mandarin. This might become a domino effect if we're not careful. If the Ten Rings can take out an Avenger-“
“Other groups might try too.”
"Exactly."
And that was as awful as it sounded. The Maggia. The Jade Syndicate. The Ten Rings might go for a second Avenger. Each Leviathan or the Red Room might rise from the dead to try and prove themselves again. Each were eager to prove themselves as a threat - and there was no better way to do that than to take down one of Earth's Mightiest Heroes.
“At least HYDRA’s dead,” Clint deadpanned.
“Don’t even joke about that. With how today’s going, they could pop up screaming Hail HYDRA and I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Sorry, sorry.” He sighed. “I saw a news report. It looks like a mess.”
“It is, which is why Fury’s got me trying to figure out what the hell is going on.” She gave a frustrated sigh. “Easier said than done when the entire world is focusing on Tony Stark’s possible death and I’m trying to figure out what the hell the Ten Rings is doing.”
And it was easier said than done when the enemy was an organization that literally existed for centuries before, and would most likely exist long after they were all dead. Clint glanced towards the door of the bathroom, knowing that he was running out of time. People would think it was weird he left the bar at all. He didn’t know if he could help, if he wanted to help, but he knew that he couldn’t just let her go.
“Do you need me to come in?” The offer slipped from his lips before he could stop it. He knew that he wasn’t being held hostage here. He was free to leave at any time. He just didn’t want to leave. Not when leaving Alaska meant going back to everything he’d run away from.
Not that Clint Barton would ever admit to running away from SHIELD. Or her. Especially not her.
Though she was damned aware that he was running from her.
“No.” Her voice was firm as she said, “Right now, we’ve got this handled. Cap’s in the Middle East trying to find a trail. Rhodes is there too, I’m in contact with both of them. I’m keeping an eye on everything. We don’t need you.”
She didn’t mean it to be hurtful. She meant it to reassure him that he was fine where he was, in the freezing cold and far away from anything involved the fight of good versus evil. That was what she meant.
That didn’t mean her words didn’t sting.
“Just let me know, alright?” Clint swallowed heavily as he leaned his head back. There were voices on the other side of the door, and they had to end this conversation quickly. He did not want anyone to hear this conversation.
“Copy that.”
She was about to hang up. God knew the next time they might talk would be. And one of their allies might be dead and she might end up in the middle of it. Even with how many mistakes he’d made in the last few months, he couldn’t let not saying goodbye to her be added to that list.
“And Nat?” Clint swallowed, looking at the ceiling before saying, “I miss you.”
The line went dead, with no answer.
For a moment, it hurt. For a moment, Clint stood there, frozen, phone still to his ear. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reminded himself that he shouldn't be surprised that he was the last person she'd want to talk to right now.
He couldn’t be too surprised, after the fuck ups he’d made in his leaving SHIELD. After what had happened between them. She might never forgive him for it. Clint wouldn’t blame her.
He was never going to forgive himself, after all.
May 2012 - Project Pegasus, New Mexico
“You have heart.”
The staff touched his chest, and Clint knew nothing.
And then he knew everything.
Ice shot through his body, rushing through his bloodstream and numbing him to the world around him. Fury, on the ground where he'd pushed him, gone. Selvig and the doctors behind him, gone. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t stop hyperventilating. His mind felt blank but overwhelmed. Nothing made sense, and everything in Clint’s world was twisting and turning until only one thing made sense.
Loki.
He couldn’t breathe. He lashed out. He tried to stab the god in the neck. He tried to cut his throat, stab his blade into his stomach, tried to kill him. It was only moments later, when seeing Loki still standing there, that he realized he hadn’t even moved.
He hadn’t stabbed him. He hadn’t cut him, killed him. He hadn’t done a damned thing. He couldn’t. Not unless Loki wanted it.
His gun clicked calmly back into its holster.
Inside his mind, he screamed, unable to comprehend what was happening. He knew what was happening. He was aware of everything. But what overwhelmed every sense that he had was the overwhelming compulsion and requirement to do what was ordered by his god.
No. Not his. Never his.
He didn’t even realize that he’d been given an order, his body acting of its own accord as he turned towards Fury. The gun was out of his holster, in his hands, aimed at Fury, and he screamed inside his mind, a maelstrom of will slamming against the hurricane of ice in his mind.
He fired a shot at Fury. He saw it aimed towards his head, and it was only a last second, sharp jerk that stopped it from being a kill shot. Instead, he went right for where he knew Fury’s Kevlar would be the thickest, where it would stun him but not kill him.
He followed the god out of the room, not looking back at the downed director. He’d done his duty, and as the gun slipped back into his holster, the pressure in his mind continued to grow, fighting down any sense of willpower or defiance Clint had. He couldn’t fight it. He already knew it, brutally aware of everything around him, of the ice in his mind and the god in front of him.
Project Pegasus was falling. Coulson was somewhere up above. If Fury was here, Hill was. People he cared about were in danger, and Clint had been reduced into a puppet.
Fury might die. Hill might die. Coulson might die. And he might have helped with it.
He followed the god, while his mind screamed.
January 2013 - Alaskan Wilderness
Clint woke up, knife in hand, as Loki's voice dead in his ears.
For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was. Alaska. He was in Alaska. He was in Alaska, in his bed, covered in sweat and trying not to hyperventilate. He had a knife in his hands, the one he kept under his pillow every night. The habit started long before Loki, but it'd become more of a comfort since.
Everything was dark. The thick curtains shielded the outside world from view. Everything was normal; no one was in the cabin with him. Everything was normal. He was safe. He was in the safe house, far away from anything or anyone, and he was fine. It’d only been a nightmare. He wasn't back under Loki's control.
Clint was fairly sure it was New Year. It was sometimes hard to keep track of the passage of time, of the ends and beginnings of days, but he did his best. When he occasionally did get enough of an internet signal out here form the SHIELD equipment he’d smuggled, it was enough to reorient him on what time really was. It was enough to remind him that Loki had hold of his mind in a time that was longer and longer ago.
“Happy New Year, Barton,” Clint muttered. He reached for the hearing aids held in the small bowl on his bedside table. “Happy fucking New Year.”
It wouldn’t exactly be a challenge for this year to be better than the last, at least. All he had to do was not get brainwashed by an alien god and contribute to the death of his mentor.
He slipped his aids in his ears and took another deep breath as his eyes adjusted to the lighting. He set the knife within easy reach on the table. He was alone. He was still alone in this safe house, lonelier than ever, but he was safe. He was safe and anyone that he might hurt was safe, and that was all that mattered to him.
She was safe from him in particular.
That silence, that isolation, was shattered by a single hard knock at the front door.
Clint looked up sharply, his eyes narrowed dangerously as he stiffened. His grip on the knife tightened. From the sound and ferocity of the knock, whoever was there had been knocking for a while. Unless he had something important, Clint did not sleep with his aids in. Parts of the good part about Alaska was the fact that he could take them out for days at a time and not have to listen to anything – not the wind, not the wolves, not himself.
He didn’t get visitors out here. Hell, no one knew where this cabin was. Only Fury and one or two trusted lieutenants would know. Of course, Nat knew, but there was no way that she would come all the way up to Alaska. She hated the cold despite her childhood in Russia. That made the list of potential visitors incredibly low, unless it was the luckiest bastard in the world to find him out there.
Then again, luck didn’t usually exist anywhere near him.
Clint tugged on a shirt, picking the knife back up and crossing the room to the front door. His left hand remained behind the door, hilt of the knife gripped tightly, and his right hand pulled it open. Clint took another deep breath before pulling the door open, gritting the teeth as a flood of cold air hit him.
Oh. Son of a bitch. She had shown up.
Snow in her hair, Natasha Romanoff smirked at him. “Happy New Year, Barton. Are you going to let me in?” she asked. “It’s rude to just leave a guest in the snow.”
May 2012 - Helicarrier 64
He was trying to kill her.
The last few days were blurs of blue, of cold and blankness and everything that now terrified Clint down to his soul. He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t eaten. But this was the worst of it all, when he was used as the weapon he was trained to be by a god who knew exactly how to use him.
And Loki had used him. He’d known what a weapon Clint could be, and he’d taken advantage of it in every way possible.
Now, Loki had pointed him directly at one of the only people Clint would set the world on fire for.
They’d sparred before. They’d practiced and fought and trained together countless times over the years. This was different. He was trying to kill her. She wasn’t trying to kill him, but she was fighting like hell anyway. If she didn’t, he would kill her.
Not right away. Not with what Loki had planned.
He wanted her to win. He wanted her to kill him, stop him from hurting anyone else he cared for. He was so damned tired, and he wanted nothing more than to stop, to pass into the void of death that Loki’s voice had been promising into his ear for days. He wanted it to be over.
The spell wouldn’t let him. The spell Loki had on him was too strong to fight, no matter how much he tried. All he could manage were little acts of rebellion – not killing Fury, defying Loki in that small way, had taken nearly every bit of his willpower, and he wasn’t sure if he had any more left.
And then Natasha won.
His forehead slammed hard into the metal handrail of the catwalks they fought in. Stars exploded in front of his vision, little bits of color among the sheen of icy blue. Clint groaned as his head spun. Hope dared to sprout in his chest as he realized that his vision wasn’t as murky blue as it was before. There was no way it could be that easy. There was no way that breaking Loki’s spell would be as easy as hitting Clint on the head.
On his knees, he looked towards Natasha - sweaty, victorious, and beautiful Natasha, who stared back down at him with the green eyes he still saw in the best of his dreams.
“Tasha?” he gasped
The word slipped out from his throat, a confused plea for something Clint couldn’t put a name to. An end. Hope that he could survive this. A dagger to the chest. A bullet to the brain. That plea contained all of those and more than Clint would ever be able to unpack.
He got his wish as Natasha lashed out. The sucker punch rendered him unconscious in a second.
January 2013 - Alaskan Wilderness
"What the hell are you doing here?"
With the benefit of hindsight, that was about the worst way he could have reacted to her showing up. And really, he deserved the death glare he received in response.
But really, how was he supposed to expect that Natasha would show up in the middle of nowhere Alaska, days after their last talk had gone so badly? He’d been convinced that she would never speak to him again. And he couldn’t have blamed her for it.
And yet there she was, standing there like a vision of heaven in a snowy hellscape. And Clint realized perhaps a few seconds too late he was gawking too much to realize how annoyed she looked that she was still standing in the doorway of the cabin.
"Standing in the snow. Maybe I'll go build a snowman." Natasha rolled her eyes. "I'm here to see you. Now can I come in or not?"
Clint nodded immediately and pushed the door open further. The last thing he wanted to do was let some of the precious warmth get out of the cabin and get back into the air. It was freezing cold enough in Alaska, and the heat in this cabin tended to act temperamentally.
“Thank you.” Natasha walked in, cat green eyes studying the cabin’s interior. She looked faintly amused as she tugged off her coat and tossed it over a chair. “I can just imagine Fury in here," she admitted. "Maybe reading a book in the corner." There was in fact a plush leather chair that Clint hadn’t occupied for the exact reason – he could only picture Fury in it.
"I've always imagined him as a King fan," Clint replied. Sure, this was a normal conversation. Fury’s taste in literature, not the fact that Natasha had followed him to fucking Alaska after she’d been searching for the Ten Rings days ago. Completely normal. "Seems like a guy who would like horror."
"He sees enough horror in his line of work. Maybe he would need a break. I’m saying he reads Kerouac or Thoreau." Natasha shrugged lightly and tugged a hand through her hair. "Stark's alive. He survived the attack on his house, figured out everything. He's okay, he's alive. So are Pepper and Rhodes, and Steve’s back in the States. The Vice President tried to kill the President, and the Ten Rings was not involved – someone was using their name. But everyone’s alive. All’s well that ends well, I guess."
The summary was probably beyond simplified, but Clint was relieved to hear that Stark was safe. He didn’t know Stark well. They’d only met in person on the ground in New York. Their first exchanged words had been Stark dropping him off on a building.
But fighting aliens in a battle for survival tended to create strong bonds. And Clint knew that while the Avengers were disbanded, there was every chance that they would have to assemble again.
He only suspected it would be a matter of when, not if. Even as determined as Clint was to avoid everything remotely related to New York, he was not dumb enough to deny that someday, the Avengers would be needed again.
“Did you come all the way to Alaska to tell me that?” Clint asked, raising a brow over at her. “Because that could have been a phone call.”
Natasha shot him a warning look. “No,” she admitted simply, abandoning her bag on the floor. Clint knew in a second what she’d come here for. “You’ve been here for months, Clint. It’s January. It’s 2013. You’ve been here for almost six months. You don’t think it’s been long enough?”
Clint didn’t know why he was surprised. She’d brought it up before to him, over the phone. He’d hung up every time. So of course she would corner him where the only place to run was into the snow.
The archer shook his head, moving to the kitchenette to try and find something for them both. She preferred hot chocolate. Somehow, even after everything, he’d still picked up hot chocolate at his last supply run, even if he never drank it. Some habits were hard to break, like grabbing your partner hot chocolate while you got yourself a coffee. He wasn’t going to be getting any more sleep with her there, so he might as well breakout the hot beverages.
He knew that this conversation was a long time coming. Especially considering the last time he’d seen Natasha, back in New York, before his flight to Alaska. And now, he was going to have to suffer through it, no matter how glad he might be to see Natasha, no matter how glad he might be for some resolution to a question he’d been asking himself for six months.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t hold it back as long as he could.
“I don’t want to go back,” Clint said firmly, taking a deep breath before putting a kettle of water on the oven. She claimed hot chocolate tasted better when it wasn’t in the microwave. He knew better than to argue.
“You don’t want to go back, or you don’t think you deserve to go back?” Natasha asked.
She knew him so damned well it hurt. He closed his eyes, sighing before looking back over towards her. “Who said it can’t be both?” Clint wondered.
“Because both of those options are stupid.” She gestured around at the walls. “I know you like your alone time. So do I. But there are better places than a cabin in the middle of the wilderness to hide. You have wolves for company. You could have gone to Anchorage at least.”
Clint gave a scoff of a laugh. “Did you come here to insult my vacation?”
“If you’re calling this a vacation, then damned right I’m insulting it.”
He rolled his eyes. The hot chocolate was done a few moments later, and he dumped the mix into it. Natasha didn’t trust anyone else to mix her drinks beyond herself, but he only grabbed a spoon and handed both to her. “I’m safe here, at least.”
Natasha looked back over at him, sniffing at her drink before nodding approvingly. “The World Security Council isn’t going to go after you. Fury won’t let them. He has blackmail on them for the rest of their lives with trying to blow up Manhattan.”
“Because that’s gonna stop them.” Clint sat down at the table, watching her carefully. The coffee would be done in a few moments, but he felt a bone deep tiredness all a sudden. “I don’t know what you thought you were going to get, coming here. I’m not ready to go back.”
Natasha shrugged lightly, sighing as she looked back over at him. “What are you waiting for? A sign? Another alien invasion popping down?”
Clint shot her a warning look. “If you only came here to harass me into coming back, you might as well walk out now.” The look on Natasha’s face was blank, but he knew that his words had cut her in some way. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just… not used to social interactions anymore.”
“Were you ever?” There was a teasing edge to that remark, no matter how fragile the edge of it might be.
Clint realized then that she was testing the waters, trying to figure out exactly he was. He knew that he was far better than he’d been in the immediate aftermath of New York. But he wasn’t sure he was ready to go back into the world, no matter how much Natasha might ever.
“I’m still having nightmares.” Clint took a deep breath. “Pretty much every night.”
Natasha swallowed, eyes flickering back to his face as she sipped at her hot chocolate. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing you can do about it.” There was no bitterness in Clint’s voice, only an exhaustion that spoke more to his mental state than anything else. He looked away, his eyes flickering back over to her before he asked, “Did you just come here on your own?”
“Partially,” Natasha admitted. She sipped at her hot chocolate again before adding, “Fury wanted me to check in on you, and I wanted to check in on you. It was a mutual decision. Worked out well for everyone. One Avenger just spent a few decades on ice, we don’t want a second one experience it.”
That, if nothing else, drew a snort out of Clint. “Cap’s doing well?” Asking about the others meant that the conversation wasn’t focused on him, no matter how short at ime it was.
“Throwing himself into SHIELD. We’ve still been partnered since you left, we’ve been getting a lot done out there. Fury’s happy with that,” Natasha admitted. “Fury's still wondering about you though. And he wanted me to see if it's possible right now to get what he wants.”
The coffee maker buzzed, and he stood up for an excuse to look away from her. She was a wonderful liar, but he knew her well enough that he was confident he could figure out the truth.
“And what does Fury want?” Clint wondered as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He turned back to her, one arm crossed against his chest and the other holding onto the mug, focusing on the heat around his hand like a lifeline.
Natasha met his eyes, face cool, calm, and collected. “He wants you to come back.” Her finger traced the handle of her mug. “So do I.” Something came over her face, an unreadable expression that made Clint realize exactly what was coming. “And I thought… I thought we should talk.”
Clint swallowed, looking back over at her. “Okay,” he said. His voice remained calm despite his heart in his throat. “Then… then let’s talk.”
He knew this was coming. He’d thought about their last in-person encounter repeatedly over the past few months, replayed it in his head with his hearing aids out. He held it as the one good thing that happened to him in 2012. And they were about to talk about it at last, and Clint knew that whatever happened in this conversation, their relationship was never going to be the same.
He couldn’t lose her. Clint Barton could not lose Natasha Romanoff, because he knew that it would shatter him to his soul.
“Coulson… he would have never wanted you to do this. Isolate yourself. Hide from everything.” Natasha raised an eyebrow at him before saying, “Do you disagree with me?”
Clint sighed. “No. I know that he wouldn’t want me to. But it’s not that easy, Nat.”
The redhead gave a quiet, exhausted sigh. “As smart as you are, you’re really dumb sometimes, Clint.”
That drew a chuckle out of him, but the humor was gone as he remembered who else had lost Coulson. “You talk to Audrey?” he asked softly. “May?”
“A few times, for both of them.” Natasha sipped at her hot chocolate. “She’s mourning. Both are. I don’t think that it’s easy for Audrey to talk to me when I was so connected to his life in SHIELD. I’m a reminder. I thought you talked to her at the funeral. And I know May is worried about you.”
“I talked to Audrey after.” Clint didn’t go into further detail, knowing that it was not something he was ready to talk about. What’d been said between him and Audrey Nathan would remain between them. “I miss him.”
Natasha gave a quiet, exhausted smile. “We’re never gonna stop missing him.”
Maybe Clint was lucky enough that they could avoid the conversation that’d been echoing in his mind for weeks.
“We shouldn’t have to miss him at all. He should still be here.” Clint knew that he had to change the subject, but every conversation he could have with her was a verbal minefield. But there was one conversation they needed to have. “He… he would have wanted us to discuss the other thing we’ve been avoiding.”
He didn’t want to avoid this conversation any longer. And it was clear that Natasha would not bring it up for fear of upsetting him. Clint was tired of waiting. He truly was. And he wanted to do something, anything.
He wanted her. No matter what, Clint would always want her.
Natasha’s entire face changed in an instant. She picked up her mug deliberately, sipping at it before looking back over at him. Her face was carefully neutral, but he knew her well enough to read the wariness and exhaustion in her eyes, with the tiniest flicker of hope deep inside.
He knew that feeling. It was the first time he’d felt hope since Loki’s scepter had touched his chest and taken away his will, his mind, his heart.
Except, perhaps, Clint realized, Loki hadn’t taken everything – because his heart was standing in front of him. And maybe she would find out that she was his heart, his everything, something he would have done anything to protect.
“I think that he would.” Natasha wiped her mouth. “And… and I know I want to have this conversation, too.”
Clint took a deep breath, knowing that he had to take a chance. She’d gone all the way here, and he had to at least try. If she walked away, she could. But he had to try. “Mind if I go first?”
Natasha nodded slowly, setting her hot chocolate on the table. “Go ahead,” she said simply. There was something unguarded on her face at last, something open and hopeful that was so outside of her normal attitude that it broke his heart.
Clint took a deep breath, squeezed his hands into fists, and took the plunge.
“I love you,” he said simply.
It was out there. It was out there and there was no way to take it back, but Clint didn’t want to take it back after hiding it for so long. He was selfish enough to want her to know that he loved her.
“I love you. I’ve loved you for a hell of a long time. That’s not gonna change. He knew that.” Clint’s breath hitched as he realized he couldn’t even say Loki’s name, but he pushed on. “He knew I love you and he used it against both of us and I’m terrified that someday, it’s gonna be used again, because I know it’s not going away. I love you. And I hate the fact that I don’t feel like you’re safe around me, because the last six months without you have literally been fucking killing me.”
Everything was coming out at once. Not even an alien invasion could have stopped him at that point.
“I miss you,” Clint whispered, finally looking back over at her. “God, Nat, I fucking miss you and I want to come home but I can’t. I don’t think I can yet. But I love you and that’s not gonna change, ever.”
Silence reigned between them. Natasha was staring at him, green eyes wide, open surprise on her face. Clint only took a deep breath, bracing himself for the worst. For her to laugh and walk away. He knew that she’d been working with Cap in DC, he knew Fury was planning it when he left New York, of course she would rather have Captain fucking America than Clint fuckup Barton.
Anyone would be better than him. And Natasha Romanoff truly deserved the best.
Natasha gave a disbelieving laugh and broke through his terrified silence. “You’re an idiot.” And then she stood, moved towards him, and kissed him.
It was about the last thing he expected. He could feel his brain reboot lie a computer, feel like he was outside his body. Natasha was kissing him. She was kissing him. She called him an idiot and kissed him and there was a chance that she loved him too.
The shock didn’t stop his hands from going to her face, calloused fingers curling tight into her hair after stroking the smooth skin of her face. This was everything he’d wanted and hoped for and more, and Clint kissed her back hard, desperate to prove that he wanted her, that he loved her. That he needed her.
He stumbled back a bit, sitting down heavily on the chair, desperate for something to keep them from falling to the ground. Natasha didn’t stop kissing him, and instead moved onto his lap, straddling him carefully. The coffee mug was knocked out of the way, spilling lukewarm liquid everywhere. Her hands were moving to tug off his shirt, and Clint couldn’t pay attention to anything else.
“Nat-“ Clint managed to get out, his breath hitching. “You’re sure-“
“Shut up.” Her hands moved to his shirt, and her lips to his jaw, and his brain short circuited again. “I want you.”
That was all he needed.
His arm moved underneath her, picking her up easy as he stumbled with her towards the bed, her in his arms and his heart against her for one glorious moment.
June 2012 - Triskelion, Washington DC
“You’re leaving?”
Part of Clint hoped that he would escape the Triskelion before she realized that he was leaving. Considering the awful luck he’d had in the last few weeks, he wasn’t surprised that of course he couldn’t get even that.
Four weeks after the Battle of New York and he wasn’t sleeping. Four weeks after he’d been Loki’s weapon and Clint could barely look anyone in the eyes. Four weeks after New York and Clint Barton was losing himself, and wasn’t sure if he could ever find himself again.
And four weeks after Phil Coulson’s death, Clint had never hated himself more. And Clint Barton was very, very good at hating himself.
“Yeah. I’m leaving.” Clint turned to look back at her, taking a deep breath. “I’ve got to get away, Nat. I have to get away from all of this.”
There was a healing cut on her forehead that he focused on. Anything but those cat eyes he adored. Natasha looked surprised, more than anything. “You weren’t even going to tell me?”
“No.” He couldn’t lie to her. Not now. Not when he was about to run away from everything. From her.
There was a flicker of hurt in her eyes. The fact that he’d seen it at all was a sign of how deeply his nearly leaving without telling her hurt. And it killed him even more to know that he was the one causing it.
Missions were different. They both understood that. But this wasn’t a mission. This was Clint running away because he couldn’t face the life that was overturned with everything.
He took a deep breath before looking back at her and saying, “I’m sorry. But I’ve got to get away.”
“I understand that.” She did. He knew that better than anyone. If anyone would understand why he needed to get away, she would. She understood him better than he understood himself. “But this isn’t the answer. Running away from everything and isolating yourself isn’t the answer.”
“Seems like a damned good one to me.” Clint shook his head, turning his attention back over to her before pleading, “Just let me go, Nat.”
“You know that I can’t.” There was an edge of pain to her voice that took him by surprise, and he closed his eyes. He knew that he was hurting her by leaving. But he couldn’t stay there. Not when he was convinced that he was a threat to her.
Not when he knew what Loki was going to have him do to her.
She kept talking. “None of this was your fault, Clint.” Her voice was firm, like she was stating a fact. Clint didn’t take it as a lie, but he damned well knew that she was wrong. It was his fault. All of it was his damned fault.
Whatever reply he might have given her was interrupted by the arrival of his ride. A car horn beeped, and Clint flinched, looking towards it. He nodded at the driver before looking back over at her. He didn’t know what to say to her, and from the lost look on her face, she didn’t either.
“You’re coming back.” It wasn’t a question. Or a request. It was a demand – that he would come back. To SHIELD. To her. “Do you understand me? I’m gonna be waiting for you.”
He didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t know what to say. What was there to say, when someone you loved gave a sign so strong that they still had faith in you? There was nothing he could say. There was nothing he could say to prove to her he cared about her, that he loved her.
So instead, Clint stepped forward, cupped his hand in her face, and kissed her hard.
It was hard and passionate and contained years of history and chemistry. It was something he’d held off on doing for so long that of course he would finally have the balls to do it when he was about to leave for Alaska of all places. His hand was curled into her hair, her hand against his hip, thumb in the loop of his belt. She was kissing him back, and in the parking garage of the Triskelion, everything felt right in the world.
Of course it would, when he was leaving the world he knew.
When the kiss was over, Natasha was left standing there. She stared at him, taken aback and completely speechless. She shook her head, green eyes suspiciously bright as she watched him throw his bag into the back seat of the jeep before he turned back to look at her.
Clint’s throat felt dry, and it was almost impossible to speak. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, Tasha.”
He got into the car. He couldn’t stop himself from looking in the rear view mirror. She stood in the middle of the parking garage, watching him leave, and he watched her until she disappeared from view.
January 2013 - Alaskan Wilderness
However long their perfect eternity lasted, it did have to end. And in bed after, Clint could only look at her and smile.
“You know you’ve got freckles on your back?” he asked, tracing patterns with his fingers. They were like constellations on her skin, and he knew that he was one of the very few to ever see them. “I never realized that.”
“You know, I don’t spend that much time looking at my back. I’ve got you to watch it for me.” Natasha threw her red hair to the side, looking back over at him. She’d grown it out more since he’d last seen her, and it was more wavy than curly, messy from their time in bed and her voyage through the wilderness.
Clint smirked, sighing as he rolled onto his back. “At least I’m good for something.” He looked back over at her. His hand moved to her face, calloused thumb stroking her cheekbone. “Should probably keep talking. You know. Until we jump each other again.”
“It’s a nice intermission. Fuck, talk, rinse and repeat.” She smirked back down at him, though her face turned serious within moments. She sighed, closing her eyes as she watched him carefully. One finger traced down his arm, a straight line, before she dragged it to the center of his chest, right over his heart.
“Just… have you wanted to do that for a while?” Clint asked, more out of curiosity than anything. A part of him was still convinced this was a dream. Her talking helped to convince him it was real.
“For a few years. Nothing major.” Her tone was nonchalant enough that it made Clint snort out of amusement. Only she could make a confession of unrequited love sound like she’d admitted to forgetting something at the store. “I’m assuming you’ve wanted the same.”
“For a long time, yeah. Just didn’t expect it to be now, of all times.” Not that he was complaining, admittedly. He’d wanted this for years. Clint shook his head, sighing as he reached out and played with a few strands of her hair, the red bright between his fingers.
“Neither did I.” Natasha’s green eyes flickered away, and she took a deep breath. “You’re… you’re one of the few people I feel like I can be me with. You’re one of the only people I can be vulnerable around that won’t judge me, won’t use that against me.”
“I like it,” Clint admitted, taking a deep breath. “That we don’t have to be Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff around each other. We’re just… we’re just Clint and Nat. The goofy dumbasses who go play laser tag every few weeks and go to bars to watch hockey games.”
“Not Hawkeye. Not the Widow. Just Clint and Nat.” Natasha looked back over at him. “That’s what I want. You and me. Not just as partners in SHIELD. But as partners in everything else.”
He leaned over before kissing her shoulder. “We coulda probably gotten this conversation and kiss out of the way a long time ago,” he admitted. “I know I’ve been in love with you for a damned long time.”
“How long?” There was a tease to her voice, but also genuine curiosity.
Clint closed his eyes before admitting, “Paris. That kiss distraction tactic… I’m not that good of an actor.” He was almost embarrassed at admitting how long he’d hidden it. Her smile made it completely worth it, a delighted, crooked little thing that warmed him to his soul. “That’s where I knew, at least.”
Natasha shook her head, rolling onto her back and resting her head against the pillow, arm curled up behind her head. “Ibiza for me. When I thought you drowned? I just… realized losing you would be my worst nightmare.”
That was a fun mission. Him nearly drowning had been the easiest part of it. “I knew you were crying,” he teased lightly, smirking as she hit his arm gently. “Hey, not nice to hit a guy trying to show his sensitive side.” He paused as he realized something critical. “Ibiza… Ibiza was six months before Paris.”
The Black Widow smirked. “That it was.”
Clint would never admit how pleased he was that she had admitted to being in love with him before he was in love with her. He’d hold that secret to him for the rest of his life. “That’s… that’s kinda amazing.”
She rolled her eyes at him. He knew her well enough to realize that it was meant to be a fond eye roll. If anyone could make that work, it was Natasha Romanoff.
Natasha shook her head before looking back at him. She moved back on top of him, grinning down. “What can I say? You’re something special, Barton.” She kissed him one more time before moving off the bed, heading to grab her clothes from the floor.
Clint frowned. Well, this wasn’t going the way he’d thought. This whole day could be described as that though.
“You going somewhere?” Clint asked. His frown deepened as he watched her tug her panties and bra from the ground, stepping into them easily. Her hands tugged the sports bra back over her chest.
“I’ve got to meet someone in Anchorage. I’m already late as it is.” She looked back over at him before saying, “If you’re staying here… it’s a way to make sure that any security footage in that little village, however minuscule it might be, won’t be found. I’m dropping off a payment.”
The least surprising part of that sentence was that Natasha was paying someone off to protect him. “So this is a fuck and run?” Clint wondered, frowning. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or impressed.” Maybe a bit disappointed. Hurt was in there somewhere.
“It’s not. Not unless you decide it is.” Natasha finished tugging on her jacket, taking a deep breath. When she was fully dressed, boots on and ready, she went to her bag. She looked back over at him, pulling out a piece of paper. “See this?”
Clint nodded slowly. “It’s a piece of paper. So rare. So majestic.”
Natasha rolled her eyes before setting it on the table. “That’s a ticket from Anchorage to Seattle. One way. It leaves in five days. It’s yours. You can get on that jet and come back home with me, or you can stay here for the rest of your life, drowning in guilt.” Natasha’s green eyes cut through his soul as she said, “I hope you make the right choice.”
Clint stared at her before asking, “Did you just use sex to try and convince me to come back to civilization?”
“No. That was for us.” Natasha hesitated, her face softening before she met his eyes. “If you stay here, you’re gonna be missing people who love you. Including me. You don’t need redemption, Clint. Not from me. Not from our friends. Not from anyone. Because we care about you. And I miss you.”
Natasha moved back over to him, kissing him one last time. Clint sighed when she pulled away, his gray eyes flickered back up to him. “I told you I’ll wait for you,” she said. “And I still will. I just hope I’m not going to be waiting much longer.”
He didn’t try to stop her because he knew that nothing he said would stop her. Clint instead watched her walk away, the cold wind hitting his bare chest. Natasha looked back at him briefly, smiling weakly.
She was gone a moment later, door closed behind her, and Clint could hear the noise of a snow mobile less than a minute later. She was gone. And when he went to look out the window, the white, empty landscape was all that met his gaze.
Clint’s gray eyes went back to the ticket on the table. He stood up, looking it over silently as he took it into his hand, his eyes moving back to the door.
He hoped he was going to make the right choice, too.
June 2012 - Seattle, Washington
The last leg on Clint’s trek to Alaska was a flight from Seattle to Anchorage. From there, he would make his way to smaller airports and villages and eventually to Fury’s cabin. He knew that it would likely be months before he stepped foot in the continental United States again. Maybe the last time ever. Maybe he would like Alaska so much he would stay there forever.
He doubted that would happen.
Clint took a deep breath, sighing as he sat in a waiting area of a terminal. His hand moved to his phone, unlocking it and checking his email one last time. He didn’t expect anything. No one had contacted him since he was put on leave following New York.
There was, however, an email waiting, one that nearly stopped Clint’s heart and gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, something good would come out of this.
Clint,
I wasn’t lying when I said this wasn’t your fault. And I wasn’t waiting when I said I’d wait for you. Whenever you’re ready, come back to me. I don’t blame you. You are the only one that blames you.
Coulson would never blame you.
Stay alive. For me. I’ll see you on the other side.
Tasha
January 2013 - Seattle, Washington
The flight from Anchorage to Seattle was already packed. Natasha was very comfortable in her seat, a magazine in her lap and her hair tied back. It would be a long flight, but more convenient to get anywhere else in the country. And she needed to be in DC in three days.
A man moved next to her, setting his bag in the overhead compartment directly above her. Natasha’s green eyes flickered up to him, and she caught a glimpse of the face. She couldn’t stop the victorious smirk on her face.
“Smug isn’t a good look on you,” Clint muttered, rolling his eyes. He moved into the window seat next to her, leaning his head back. His eyes slipped shut easily as he took a deep breath.
“Everything looks good on me, Barton.” Natasha turned back to look at him. “You sure about this?”
There was nothing Natasha wanted more than to have her partner back. But she knew that this was not easy for him. He was pushing himself for her. Or at least, she liked to think he was. And she did not him to suffer for it. If she wasn’t sure, she did not want to push him.
Clint scoffed. “Fuck no, but I can’t keep hiding forever. Have to go back to SHIELD and the world sooner or later. Might as well be on my own terms.”
Natasha knew he was right. Either way, as the plane prepared for takeoff, she reached over to take his hand. Whatever their new relationship might be, she would be there for him. They would always be partners first and foremost. She would always have his back, no matter what.
She loved him. And Natasha Romanoff intended to prove that to Clint Barton, whatever it took.
She squeezed his hand gently, a reminder of that promise.
He squeezed back, holding on for dear life.