AN Oh my goodness. I can barely believe we're here. I know I promised this epilogue eons ago, but this turned out to be a whole new sort of chaos, so there was a good deal of wrestling it into submission/expanding it from one or two chapters to something closer to five or six :O But now we are here and we are able to see Natasha, Clint, and Gracia's recovery done justice.

(also, apologies for inaccuracies in court procedure and therapy)

A million and one thank yous to Red Bess Rackham and ThatGypsyWriter. You two are gifts and you have helped me through the many, many headaches of this story.

Title from the song "Come Rain or Come Shine" by Joe Williams.


natasha, it's good to see you. how have things been going?

Clint, Natasha, and Gracia hadn't realized what a family entailed until they were in the middle of it, facing their problems down with the little knowledge they had. Things were slow to adjust. They were difficult, strange, delightful, worrisome, and so completely gratifying. But Natasha liked that, she liked the honest grit that came from making something, carving out happiness from the unforgiving marble that made up her life. She liked working for and receiving her proper reward.

She had known, sitting on the couch with Clint and Gracia, that things would be difficult. The Landlord had been arrested, but they would need to fight to get him his due punishment. Gracia still had a deadness in her eyes that Natasha wasn't sure how to fix, Clint held himself together with bands made of guilt and concern, and Natasha had nightmares and a distrust that would be slow to disappear. She knew healing would take more than new clothes, a different bed, and enough food to eat.

But it wasn't something that had to be done alone. That was probably the strangest thing about being out of the boarding house (aside from the freedom to think and act for herself); Natasha had someone else to rely on. And it wasn't just the covert friendship she'd had with Gracia. Clint was always ready and willing to help her through whatever she needed, which Natasha honestly didn't find that surprising. He had more than proved he was willing to walk through fire for her. The most surprising person, though, was Natasha's therapist. She was an older woman named Diane, and had a relaxed, easy going nature that Natasha liked. She always let Natasha take her time to say things. She let Natasha have her silence, if she needed it.

One thing that Diane insisted on was Natasha developing a routine. Natasha had been uncertain at first, but eventually she learned how to plan out her day according to what she wanted, and not what the Landlord demanded of her.

The best part of Natasha's day was undoubtedly the mornings. She and Gracia still retained habits from being creatures of the night, including ungainly mornings . Clint didn't seem to mind, though, smiling in the face of Natasha's irritability and Gracia's semi-consciousness. He was the shockingly bright side of the three of them, the cynicism and exhaustion of the dark having fallen away to reveal someone Natasha wished she had known sooner.

Once they were up and running, there was a whole world for the two of them to discover. The days, Natasha had come to learn, were something meant for good works. Daytime in the boarding house had been strange, in between moments in her life, hovering between going out to the streets and coming in from the streets and menial chores. They had been bland, tedious things, waited out with cigarettes, sleep, and personal maintenance that did little good.

Now they could be whatever Natasha wanted. And it wasn't just cooking and cleaning, either, as Diane had made it clear that Natasha was worth more than serving other people. Natasha had been adamant that she was only helping, and Diane explained that, yes, it was wonderful to help. But helping didn't mean she couldn't take time for herself. It had taken a few false starts, but Natasha eventually figured out what it meant to do things for herself. She took walks with Gracia, got to know the people in the charming townhouses nearby, visited museums and libraries, and tried to learn all of the things that had been kept from her for years.

The scariest and most exhilarating thing, though, was interacting with people. Natasha had never known there were so many different types in the world. Before, everyone had been filtered into her binary view of things. They were either marks or threats, stage pieces or main players. Shades of grey hadn't existed in her muddy and confusing world.

Now they surrounded her, varying levels of kindness and grace and humanity battling and coexisting with prejudice and selfishness and incivility. People were strange and complex and confusing to her in ways that she could not have imagined before. They astonished her with their beauty and ugliness, and even though it was hard for her to trust (and it was so, so hard for her to trust), Natasha found herself drawn to them. Humanity proved itself to be magnificent in ways she had never imagined before.

The only problem was that Natasha also had to remove the binary perception from herself. Life was about more than having ice and not having ice. There were walls around her soul she needed to take down, habits that needed to be destroyed, concepts that had to be built in order for her to be happy.

Happy. She had time to pursue being happy. She had time to discover who she was as an individual. She had the safety to trust people without making them bleed first.

That was what made the whole endeavor scary.

that's good to hear. i'm glad things are settling out for you. and with gracia, how have things been with her? last time we spoke, you said it was still a little rocky.

Gracia found her own therapist at Diane's recommendation, a bright eyed, eager woman named Melanie that tempered bone setting with a tender hug. At first, Gracia was hesitant with her and resisted all of her efforts. She made up excuses not to go to therapy sessions or sat in petulant silence as Melanie waited for her to speak. It had been weeks since she left the boarding house, and Gracia still refused to be completely cooperative. Sometimes she would talk and do the exercises Melanie suggested, while other times she would lash out in bouts of silence or hostility. Melanie didn't seem to mind. When Natasha expressed doubts, she just shook her head and smiled.

"Have you ever tried to get a teenager to do something they didn't want to do?" she asked. "It's kind of a nightmare. Honestly, I'm just excited to see her being comfortable enough to say no."

Natasha blinked in confusion. She'd never thought about it like that. Saying no was...well, it hadn't been an option before. It was a danger that resulted in girls getting kicked out, if they were lucky. No one said 'no' in the boarding house.

And, if Natasha was being honest, she was thrilled at the thought of Gracia being any form of normal, even if it was the moody kind. Gracia hadn't told Natasha very much about her past, but she suspected the girl had not known anything decent before the Landlord had claimed her. 'Normal' was every bit as precious to Gracia as it was to Natasha.

Natasha was determined to make things better for her, though. Natasha barely knew how to take care of herself, but something in her bones said that she would fight for Gracia to have a good life. She had helped Gracia find a home, but her responsibility for the girl went farther than that.

Natasha hesitated mentioning it to Clint at first, but Diane always insisted she speak to him about important subjects. That didn't stop the conversation from feeling like gravel caught in her throat.

"…Clint?" Natasha asked, staring up at the dark ceiling of their bedroom.

"Mm?" He sounded half awake, and she almost backed away from the conversation. But then she closed her eyes and forced herself through the words. Their relationship was more than just the big things. It covered the little things, too.

"I want to help Gracia."

"Me too. She won't let me go near her, though."

Though Gracia trusted Clint enough to stay in his home, it was painfully obvious that there was a wall between them. Gracia seemed to equate all men with clients, and Clint's easy respect for her boundaries didn't seem capable of breaking that. She tolerated being around him, but she never relaxed. Gracia always stayed a hair out of reach, remained silent unless Natasha was in the room, limited her interactions with him to the bare minimum.

"I wish I knew what to do about that," Natasha sighed.

"Maybe you'll have some better thoughts when it's light out," he said. Natasha broke into a smile and rolled over to put her arm around him.

"Maybe," she whispered, then kissed his neck.

don't feel discouraged that this hasn't been going as fast as you wanted. there's a lot there that needs to be addressed, everything from social skills to schooling.

There was so much more to making a little girl healthy and feel safe than either Clint or Natasha had expected. Sometimes Natasha couldn't keep herself from becoming over just how much was wrong with Gracia, how much the Landlord had stolen from her. They were ugly, toxic moments, laced with a bitter frost she did not want to feel. Progress, though, was what saved her. Natasha clung to every little bit of progress and made it feel like a triumph, because that was the only way she knew how to work.

Gracia's education was one of the most glaring issues that needed to be addressed. Her basic knowledge was haphazard at best, different areas lagging far behind others. Melanie gave them a few recommendations on how to proceed shortly after Gracia began seeing her.

"She reads shockingly well. I hadn't thought she would be able to do half so well, considering. Did Hughes have any sort of policy on education?" Melanie asked.

Natasha shrugged. "He didn't really care."

"Okay. I did basic tests on math and science, just out of curiosity, but I think a tutor would really benefit her. You definitely don't want to stick her into a classroom full of kids, not just yet."

Melanie brushed a strand of blonde hair back from her face. She put her hands on her hips like she was trying to think of a strategy, bouncing on her toes. Natasha was convinced the woman didn't know how to sit still.

"Gracia really lacks in social aspects. There's a big wall that needs to come down before she's willing to talk to anyone, much less trust them. Children her age… From what I've seen, they can be vicious. But Gracia can be vicious right back and that's not something we want either."

"So what do you recommend?"

"I'm not entirely certain," she sighed. She turned to her desk and picked up a piece of paper, toying with it a moment before handing it to Natasha. "I'm not positive what would be best for her. I definitely think we should get a tutor, though. Here's a list of people that I think would work well with her, but I think you should review them with Clint. See how it goes with whichever one you choose, if you choose one."

"Is there anything I can do?" Natasha asked, glancing over the information on the page.

"Get her around more people. Make small talk with librarians, neighbors, people in the park, anything. Little steps, of course, but every bit helps."

"Alright," Natasha said with a nod. "Thank you."

"Of course. Gracia has come a long way to find a better place, and I want these last few steps to be as smooth as possible."

Natasha deliberated over tutors with Clint, meeting with a few on Clint's lunch breaks. It was still disorienting to act like...she was capable. If Natasha thought about it too much, she would panic and everything would crash down on her and then she'd be unable to function. But as Clint was fond of saying, Natasha had to fake it 'til she made it. If she continued pretending to know where she needed to go, she would eventually stumble into the realm of capability.

Until they decided on a tutor, Natasha took Gracia out more. New York wasn't the friendliest city, but they found places to speak to strangers and melt some of the frost they both had in reserve. Natasha might have been imagining it, but she could have sworn Gracia had a bit of a bounce in her step with every trip.

you mentioned last time that your lawyer brought up legal guardianship for gracia?

"If you're going to do anything that sticks with this little girl, you're going to have to get custody," Warwick told them.

Natasha blinked in surprise. They had been working on her court proceedings for weeks, so the mention of Gracia caught her by surprise. Then her stomach twisted at the idea of a threat to her happy little family.

"Custody?" she asked, the word sounding strange and foreign on her tongue. It felt hostile. Clint was nodding, though, unsurprised by Warwick's statement.

"Okay. How can we do this the fastest, easiest way possible?"

"Get some lawyers specializing in civil suits and get the court to agree that you're the best option for Gracia to live with. I don't think there will be too much push back, poor thing's parents gave her to a damn pimp. Only real thing you've got to do is show it's a safe, healthy place for her to be in."

"How long do you think it will take?" Clint asked.

Warwick sighed, leaning back in his seat. "From the little I know, a few months. Anywhere from three to six. I'd assume she could stay with you until then, if everything checks out, but yeah, six months for it to be completely official. I would wait, though."

"Why?" Natasha asked, eyes boring into Warwick's.

He slid his gaze over to her, appraising. When he spoke, his words were careful but not overly comforting. Natasha valued Warwick for everything he had done for them, but she truly liked him for not treating her like she was fragile.

"One court battle is enough of a headache, especially with the kind of bruiser Hughes is going to turn this into. His lawyer, Kilgrave…he's a nasty piece of work. Adding another on top of it, on similar subject… Things might get complicated. Gracia's custody case should, should, be an open and shut, but you can never tell with parents. They might use your past against you. I wouldn't take the risk."

Natasha nodded, stomach twisting in fear over Gracia's future, but her resolve hardened all the same. Clint was of the same mind.

"I want to help Gracia as soon as possible, but I want to do it right," he told Natasha on the drive back. Natasha stared out the window.

"I don't—this is all strange," she confessed. "I don't really…I've never dealt with any of this. I don't—" She closed her eyes, sucked in a breath. Clint was good, Clint was safe, Clint deserved the truth, even if it made her seem weak. "I don't understand much of this. I don't see how the two cases could conflict or how the court might take her from us. I don't…"

"I know, Natasha," Clint said, giving her hand a slight squeeze. "But you really think I know any better? I got no idea how to deal with kids. I…I dunno, try to treat her right."

"I'm not even sure if I know what that means. The boarding house…it's tainted everything. I can barely remember how my family took care of me."

"For me, I just do whatever my old man didn't," Clint said.

Natasha stayed quiet, not certain how to deal with Clint's stories of his childhood. She knew it was bad, but he had never handed her more than a few sentences at a time. She never wanted much more than that.

"Do you think this is what she needs, though?" she insisted after a few more street blocks of double parked cars and people in sharp suits. "Tutors and therapists…it doesn't feel like I'm dealing with this, does that make sense? Whenever I walk out of a meeting with Melanie she always looks so nervous, like she thinks I'm going to leave Gracia because of all the work she needs. What if Gracia feels the same way? It used to be just us. I don't want her to think I'm pulling away."

"Have you talked with her about this?"

"Not really," she sighed. "Gracia doesn't have much to say about it. She hasn't mentioned having a problem with any of it, and I know she'll be happy with us, but what if we're not doing what's right? What if we're not good enough for everyone else? What if they look at me and think—"

"Don't think about that," Clint said, voice firm. "Don't even think about it. You got out of that life and you're never gonna hafta do that again, I promise. Anyone who keeps Gracia away from us because of what happened to you two is out of their damn mind. Like Warwick said, open and shut."

"I don't want to put this off, though. Anything could happen and this…I'm not sure what's best for her."

"We have time, Natasha," Clint murmured, pressing a kiss against her knuckles.

i love that clint is so supportive of you two. that just makes me smile. you don't find many people like him in this city. how is he doing, anyway?

Clint had a good deal of healing of his own to do. His problems were quieter than Gracia or Natasha's, and he often ignored them for the sake of ensuring the other two received all the help they could get. There was a tiredness that Natasha always found in his little boy blue eyes, as well as a darkness that surfaced on bad days.

He didn't like talking about it. Natasha respected his need for silence, but that didn't keep her from feeling helpless about it. Here he was fishing down the stars for them, and yet she couldn't do anything in return. She couldn't be useful.

"Nat, it's fine," he would say whenever he caught sight of the unhappiness in her eyes. "Just…some of these things can't be fixed by doctors or hugs, y'know? Don't worry about me, I'm not worth the fuss."

That always stabbed Natasha deeper than she thought it could. How could a man spend every single one of his breaths telling her that she was wonderful and worth so much when he didn't even believe it about himself?

Sometimes he would let her in, though, murmuring tiny, tangled up sentences that got lost in her hair and his resurging country accent. It only happened at night, when they were in bed and were yet again protected by the gauzy dark. Clint's words were terrified bruises as he confessed about his parents, how he found himself blaming his brother for things no one could control, how he never felt entirely sure he knew how to love someone in the way they were supposed to be loved.

Natasha listened and graced his forehead with tender, heartbroken kisses, because that was where all of these problems lived. If she could press enough of her love into his skin, maybe, maybe he would start feeling that love for himself.

When he couldn't speak to Natasha, though, he talked to one of his friends. The two had met when Clint and Natasha had taken their break, when Clint had been begun addressing the nightmare that was his own life. His name was Phil, and he was the owner of a neat little deli on the edge of the expensive side of Brooklyn. Natasha had only met him a couple of times, but she noticed the bagful of wisdom he kept behind his mild smile. He was good for Clint.

What Natasha liked best, though, were the open, personal conversations she had with Clint. His confessions made her uneasy and his silence made her anxious, but when they just talked, she felt light enough to float on air. Most of the time it was simple, idle conversation pieces passed back and forth when they were in bed or on a commercial break or sitting in the car. Sometimes they would branch onto more serious topics, but most of the time it was simplicity itself. She was comfortable enough to simply exist with Clint, to sit in silence or discuss the simplest of things. And that, she was sure, was the most sacred form of trust she could give.