Natasha stood in the rain. It ran down her bare arms, soaked her to the skin. She could taste it on her lips as it dripped from her lashes and rolled down her cheeks. Her skin tingled as the drops struck her; she revelled in the sensation, letting it wash away everything else.
The last week had been hell. Reports. Interrogations. Not that she wasn't used to being questioned. She just wasn't used to having to protect anyone but herself with the answers, especially not someone who had done a lot of things against his will.
Sick of the nonsense, she had snuck into the hangar only to find the Hawk already buckled into one of the small fighter planes. Bypassing the security system had been simple with a bit of tech Tony had "given" her, and she and Barton spent the night far away from recent memories.
Fury had dragged them back the next day with a reminder of one of the many things she'd wanted to forget happened: Coulson. Natasha had avoided a lot of funerals, but there was no getting out of this one. She hadn't cried-she never cried-but she'd sort of wanted to.
Afterwards, Bruce had invited her and Barton back to Stark Tower. Tony hadn't objected, and neither of them wanted to return to SHIELD, so they'd stayed. Steve had joined them the next morning. So far, no one seemed ready to leave.
Natasha stood in the rain. Somewhere behind her, Barton watched her shiver, waiting for her to decide she'd had enough. Waiting for her to feel calm again.
He would be there a long time.