"I need to leave," Natasha stated matter-of-factly.

Coulson raised one of his eyebrows and looked up to her from his desk.

Natasha unfolded her arms and shifted her weight on to her left leg.

"Not forever. Just for today. There's something I have to take care of. Agent Perez is managing the recruits for the rest of the day," she clarified.

Coulson's facial expression returned to his usual blasé mask.

"Ok," he said calmly.

Natasha nodded, and without another word, she turned on her heels and headed out of the Director's office.

Left early. There's something I need to take care of. See you tonight.

Natasha slipped the phone back into the pocket of the jeans she'd borrowed from SHIELD's undercover stock on her way out, and resisted the urge to scratch her head under the blond wig she'd swiped as well. Instead, she concentrated on the array of paper boxes on the shelf in front of her. They all looked the same – same functions, same "benefits", just different brand names. Huffing, she picked five at random and dropped them into her plastic basket. At the checkout, she topped her purchase off with some raspberry-flavored gum.

About an hour later, Natasha found herself sitting on an armchair in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of her and Clint's apartment at Stark Tower. She was completely motionless, save for the steady movement of her jaw and an occasional pink bubble bursting through her lips. She even ignored the buzzing of her phone.

When Clint came home at night, Natasha still hadn't moved an inch. She didn't even turn her head when she heard him drop his things at the entrance of the living room.

"Hey! What's going on? I tried calling but – "

Clint flipped on the light switch and stopped short when he saw the paper boxes neatly laid out on the small table in front of the sofa. Their contents had been removed and were equally neatly arranged in a set of parallel white plastic lines across the table.

Clint's face turned into an impenetrable mask as he inspected the individual plastic sticks. When he was done, he pursed his lips for a moment, before smoothing his features over and turning to Natasha, who was still staring out of the window.

Clint dragged a small stool next to her armchair and lowered himself on to it. He seemed to gauge her expression and posture for a moment before he calmly asked:

"How?"

Natasha blinked.

"I don't know." Her deep voice almost sounded shaky. "I'm not supposed to be able to-"

She didn't finish her sentence.

Clint nodded lightly and followed her gaze outside on to the now dark city scenery.

"What do you want to do?" he asked, carefully weighing each of his words.

Natasha swallowed.

"I don't know. I don't want to kill." She slightly turned her head towards him und fixed him with an inscrutable gaze. "Besides, it's not like this is only my decision."

"It is. It's you, and your body. I'll go with whatever you decide," Clint replied, searching her eyes for an emotion, any emotion.

Natasha turned back towards the window.

Clint reached out to capture one of the hands in her lap into his. Natasha's gaze dropped to their joint fingers.

"I'm not made for this. I can't be a mother. I can't be off the field. It's not who I am," she said quietly.

"I know," Clint replied.

"But I also don't want to take another innocent life. What if I'm meant to have this baby? What if this is how I'm supposed to redeem myself?"

Clint didn't know what to say to that, but Natasha didn't seem to expect an answer either. Instead, her steely eyes suddenly met his.

"But you want this, don't you? I've seen you watch families around the globe. For years. I don't want to take away your chance at this." She pressed her lips together.

Clint moved his free hand up to cup her face.

"I'm not gonna lie, I've thought about it. But I'd only want a family if it's with you. Ever." He gently let his thumb slide across her cheek. "And more importantly, I want you to be happy. So, whatever you decide – I'll go with it."

Natasha closed her eyes and swallowed.

"You don't have to decide tonight. Take some time to think about it," Clint suggested.

"I've been thinking about it all afternoon," Natasha replied as she slowly opened her eyes again. "It's not like there are too many options."

Clint held her gaze.

"Ok, let's say you decide you definitely don't want to … kill." He copied the way she'd phrased it earlier. "If you keep it and give it up for adoption, you'd still have to stay off the field for a few months."

Natasha lowered her gaze and nodded slightly.

"Would you be able to do that?" Clint asked carefully.

Natasha seemed to think for a moment, and then nodded again.

"If it's just for a few months, yeah, I could do it," she replied.

"And could you live with the knowledge of your child growing up among other people?" he asked.

At that, Natasha hesitated.

"I think so. It'd be the best option," she said quietly. "Could you?"

Clint knew that there was no point in lying to his partner who knew him so well.

"I'd learn," he said. "It'd be the best option."

Natasha looked at him silently for a few minutes. Her eyes seemed to search for something.

"Alright," she said finally. "I guess we made a decision. We'll keep it and give it up for adoption."

Clint nodded.

"Yeah."