A/N Hey, so this is my first Avengers fanfic (on this site anyway). It takes place a day or two after the New York Battle. Please review, because I want to make sure that I stay true to the characters, so input would be wonderful! I own nothing.

AfterShock

"Hey, Clint?" The archer was in his hideout, the one only Natasha knew about. It was she who addressed him now.

Clint only grunted as his partner dropped down next to him on the roof.

"Clint . . ." she said again. "What's up?" she knew the answer, at least part of it, but she asked because she knew how much it bugged him when she assumed that she knew his thoughts, even though she did most of the time.

He smiled wryly, knowing that she didn't need an answer. He gave her one anyway, "Nat . . . I-I thought I was better than this."

Natasha snorted, "Better than what? Moping on the roof? I thought you were too." She softened, "Clint, how many times do I have to tell you that it wasn't your fault? None of this is your fault! And you're back now anyway."

"Because of you."

"Is that what this is about? Your male pride is wounded because I kicked your butt? I figured you'd be used to that." Her attempt at humor did nothing for his mood, but he appreciated the effort.

But the look he gave her wasn't one of a person she could continue teasing. His eyes held something scared and raw, and she'd never seen it in him. It scared her.

"Nat . . . I wanted to kill you. I dreamed about it…" he looked down at his calloused hands. "How can someone change me so completely?"

She smiled in that small way of hers, "You changed me."

"Tasha." He grabbed her hand and, for once, she didn't pull away. "My thoughts weren't my own, I know that, but I was aware the whole time, no part of the real me was there, no voice of reason. My ideas, the ways I wanted to hurt you, those were my own! I came up with them . . . and I told him. I know the worst things I could do to you-"

"Not the worst thing," she whispered, but he continued as if he hadn't heard, and maybe he hadn't.

"-and I wanted to. I helped him so he would let me! It was to be my reward!" He sighed, "They say agents never forgive themselves, and I know you haven't even if you should, but now I don't see how I can forgive myself either."

"Clint, as much as you think it was you, it wasn't. It was Loki. You may have given him the facts, but he twisted you, made you want it. It was him."

"Was it Loki last night when I dreamed of killing you? All the trauma to fill my nightmares with and killing you is what I dreamed of? Was it Loki this morning when I woke thinking of hurting you?

"Was it Loki when I woke up thinking of you every morning since he took you?" she looked away. "Was it Loki this morning?" she added softer.

"What?"

"Loki made you want this. He knew he could use it to his advantage. He's a master at that kind of thing." She chuckled; it was as if her earlier admission hadn't happened, "You think you're the only one suffering from after-effects from him? Did you see Selvig? He's been prescribed a different pill for every color of the rainbow."

"Natasha, I was scared to face you this morning. I'm still not sure I have a handle on it."

She could have told him that he needn't worry about killing her, there's no way she'd let him, but instead she just took her hand from his and touched his face, "Look at me, Clint. Do you want to kill me?"

"No, I-I want to k-" she didn't let him finish. Leaning up, she kissed him, just like that. She could feel his hurt and confusion, and it only made her kiss him harder. He didn't pull back, no man would when The Black Widow was kissing him; she ended as she started, abruptly.

"Natasha?" Clint couldn't help but let the confusion color his voice.

"Loki taunted me, when he was in Hulk's cage. He asked me if I love you. And . . ." she took a deep breath, "I think I do."

The look of wonder on Clint's face quickly turned to one of surprise. Nat didn't love anyone. He'd given up on her, or he thought he had. "You love me?" he asked incredulously. He knew how dangerous love was for her. She'd been taught that to love was to be weak. "Well . . . that changes things," he said finally.

She smiled at him, a real smile, one that only he's ever seen, and brought her lips back to his.