"Have you ever had someone take your brain and... play? Pull you out and stuff something else in? You know what it's like to be unmade?"

"You know that I do."

There are those times, when all you need is to be alone. All you need is time to figure it all out. But there are those times when solitude is not enough. When you need the company of someone who can sympathize. A fellow survivor. For Clint Barton, this was one of those times. He managed to survive the battle, barely kept from putting an arrow through Loki's eye socket as he had so jokingly threatened to do. But when he got back to SHEILD, saw the looks he received from the people, people who had see his betrayal, (however unwilling) first hand, he couldn't ignore the facts any longer. Clint Barton had been compromised, and that was not something to be taken lightly.

That's why, when Natasha Romanoff finally returned to her quarters around midnight a few days after saving New York, she found Clint sitting outside her door, head in his hands. "You should be sleeping. It's been a tough few days." Natasha commented softly.

Not bothering to look up, Clint shook his head. "I can't sleep. I just keep living it over and over again. Making the same mistakes."

Natasha opened her mouth to speak, but found herself instead sliding down to sit next to him. "It wasn't-"

"Please don't," Clint raised his head, and for the first time since Natasha had met Clint, there was a pleading look on his face. "Please... don't tell me it's not my fault. Don't say that I tried my best. Just... don't. That's all anyone has said to me since... since the battle."

"What do you want me to say?" Natasha asked gently. "Because that's all I can say. I've seen the footage of when Loki took the Cube. Believe me, I watched every bit of what happened from every angle, and you did do your best. And your best is so much better than other men in the room. I didn't see Fury charging Loki alone. I didn't see any of the other, was it 20 guards? attacking him. But you did. And not to mention that it was with a weapon that you constantly state 'has no purpose in this world.'" Clint smiled a little at the last statement. "Really, Clint, you should be the hero. And not just for New York. Without you, we probably never would have found Loki in time."

Clint was silent for a long time, thinking about what she had said. After al long time, he nodded, slowly, accepting what she said, if somewhat grudgingly. Natasha started to get up, satisfied that Clint wasn't going to blaming himself any longer, but one of Clint's hands on hers stopped her short. "Nat. Thank you. When I first came around after our fight, I didn't know what to do, not sure what was real and what was just something Loki put in my head. But you were right there, telling me that I'd be all right, and I just... thanks." Clint grimaced at the lame ending, but hey, he was an assassin, after all.

Natasha smiled slightly. Seeing Clint, whom Natasha had always assumed was above such emotions so distraught had almost worried her, and the open gratitude had raised her eyebrows, but the grimace at the end was what had brought on the smile. Only Clint, the real Clint, could be so tortured and still care that much about how his 'thank you' ended. "No problem, Clint. That's what partners are for." And she was gone, disappeared into her room. Clint remained in the hall for a few minutes longer, before finally making his way to his own quarters. That night, Clint was asleep, almost before his head hit the pillows. That night, there were no nightmares, no waking up screaming and sweating. And Clint was perfectly fine with that.

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