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Natasha found him, like she always did, and settled herself beside him carefully like he would spook if she moved too quickly. "You feel guilty for wanting her."
Clint looked up sharply, then shook his head. It wasn't actually a no, so much as denial of himself, that it was a good idea, that it was even an acceptable idea. "She just lost her brother."
"Clint," softly.
He didn't look at her.
"Clint," she repeated, a little more firmly. "It wasn't your fault." She'd told him so many times over the years.
He sighed and refused to look at her.