Sooo, I uploaded this on here a while ago and then took it down because of the mirrored sites, and now I'm re-uploading it. Sorry for the confusion-especially if you're reading this for the second time and are wondering just what happened to it.

Disclaimer: I'm not Stan Lee *reveals her full head of hair to the public* and I don't own The Avengers. I wish I did, but I don't. No copyright infringement intended.

Two Lonely Hearts

By Knowing Grace

I will not cry, I told myself. I. Will. Not. Cry.

Crying was for the weak, for children...for the innocent. And it had been far too long since I was any of those things. Now, I was a monster, an assassin who had no feelings; I killed people without any qualms. But somehow he saw past my tough-girl facade. He alone did what no one save Clint had been able to do for nearly twenty years. He saw me. Oh, he, like everyone else, saw all the other stuff too: the seductress, the killer, the ice queen, but he also saw what others did not. He saw the wounded woman, the exhaustion, the sadness, the loneliness...the broken warrior.

Pushing away from the table, I stood, unable to remain staring at the chair where he had sat no more than a few hours ago.

"I need some air." I murmured by way of an excuse. Grabbing my coat from off of the coat-tree in the mudroom, I shoved my arms into the leather sleeves and stepped out into the darkness. The door closed behind me with a slight creak, bringing a small smile to my lips; Clint was forever telling Laura that he would fix it, but so far he hadn't "gotten around to it" as he liked to say.

Even through my jacket I could feel the bite of the crisp, Autumn air and an involuntary shiver ran up my spine. The stars shone bright above me, but somehow they seemed remote and cold. When I was a child, I had spent countless hours watching the night sky, finding a strange sense of comfort in them. Unfortunately, there was no solace to be found for me on this evening. "Where are you?" I whispered to the heavens.

There was no answer.

Suddenly, the door creaked again and I felt a familiar presence a little to my left.

"It's quite beautiful out here tonight, isn't it?"

Rolling my eyes, I rested my forearms on the wooden porch railing. "If Laura sent you out here to check on me, you can tell her that I'm fine. I only need a moment to myself."

"Nat..." He was interrupted by a loud crash, followed by a roar of laughter that came from the direction of the kitchen.

One corner of my mouth tipped upwards in a sardonic smile. "There's too much 'male-bonding' going on in there for me right now." I said, dryly, eliciting a chuckle from my long time friend and surrogate brother—effectively lightening the mood.

"You may be right about that." he said, seeming in no way concerned that three of Earth's Mightiest Heroes were quite possibly tearing up his house.

An owl crooned from the branches of a nearby Sycamore tree before taking wing. Its large body blotted out the moon for a moment as it began its nightly search for food.

"What are you doing out here, Clint?" I finally asked, feeling more tired than I had in a long time.

"Can't a man just check on his little sister once in a while?"

I glanced at him, cocking an eyebrow and he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I guess not." Running his fingers through his sandy-brown hair, he sighed. "Look, Nat, we both know that you're not fine."

"We do?"

"Don't play games with me, Natasha, I'm being serious!"

I straightened up and crossed my arms defensively over my chest. "Would you like me to spell it out for you?" I bit out. "I. Am. Fine. Now, leave me alone and rejoin the party."

As fast as a striking snake, Barton's arm shot out and he grasped my wrist, keeping me from turning away.

"No you're not." His words were gentle, belying the strength of his grip. "You're wounded, Nat, I can see it in your eyes." He raised his free hand as I opened my mouth to retort, in a gesture for me to remain silent. "I know there's no blood pouring out of you at the moment, but you are wounded nonetheless, in here." He tapped his forefinger on my chest, directly above where my heart lay.

Instantly, I could feel my walls going up. "I don't know what you're talking about." I said, but my voice shook, belying my words.

"You fell for Banner, didn't you?"

Ignoring his question, I tugged, trying to dislodge his grip on my arm, but he only squeezed it tighter. "Didn't you?" He asked again, and I snapped.

"Yes! Yes, I fell in love with Bruce! Is that what you wanted to hear?" Tears blurred my vision and I suddenly found myself pressed against Clint's warm chest. "I love him, but I'm not good enough for him." I mumbled, feeling the traitorous wetness that rolled down my cheeks, soaking Barton's black t-shirt.

"Oh, Nat, that's not true." He murmured into my hair as he stroked a hand down my back in comfort. "He needs you."

"No he doesn't. We were just...just two lonely hearts in search of something outside of ourselves; we were searching for something that only someone else could give. But I can't give it to him, Clint...there's too much red in my ledger...too much. I'm not good enough for him, that's why he left." I pulled way from him and he wiped the excess wetness from my face with the pads of his thumbs.

"That's untrue and you know it. Nat, I think he left because he was afraid."

"Afraid of what?" I inquired, letting out a soggy laugh that was anything but happy.

"Afraid of making a mistake, afraid of losing control and hurting you, afraid of finally allowing himself to be happy. I know him; not as well as you do, but I've watched him interact with you on multiple occasions. He loves you, Nat, and I think that how strongly he feels for you scares him so much that he thought you'd be better off—safer—without him. He is, of course, wrong, and if he was here right now I would bash his head in for hurting you, as any good brother would."

That pried a true chuckle from my lips and he smiled down at me. "I don't think you'd be able to take him." I said, giving him a playful shove.

"What do you mean? I could take him with one hand tied behind my back!" he proclaimed.

"I think you're forgetting that he turns into a 'giant, green rage monster', to quote Tony."

"Well, there is that." He replied, and then grew serious once more. "All I want is for you to be happy."

I gave him a tiny smile in return. "I am happy." I glanced once more at the stars and heard him sigh.

"He'll come back again. If he loves you and can remove his head from his ass long enough to acknowledge that fact, he'll come back and never leave you again...ever."

"And if he doesn't?" I nearly cringed at the note of hopelessness in my voice.

Clint slung and arm around my shoulders. "If he doesn't, green rage-monster or no green rage-monster, I'll find him and I'll whip his ass!" he replied.

Another crash sounded from the house and I glanced up in time to see Clint grimace. "Why don't we head back inside before they decide to break the house down..."

~ Finis