Natasha dipped a fry into garlic paste and thought about cowardice. She hadn't told Clint about Phil on the carrier because she was afraid he would do something stupid during the battle. She hadn't told him while they were waiting for someone to come collect Loki. And now, she wasn't sure how to tell him. This was why she avoided emotional entanglements.
The door to the shawarma restaurant swung open, and Natasha almost thanked god. "Director."
"Agent Barton, let's take a walk." Fury didn't come in, just stood in the doorway looking imposing.
Clint pushed his chair back and stood, swaying on his feet a little. "I'm really tired, sir. I just want to eat, and go home."
"If you're going to whine about not being finished, you can bring it with you, but we need to talk, now." Fury held the door open and Clint picked up a pita and followed him out.
She must have made an outward sigh of relief, because Steve had swung his gaze to her, suddenly in focus. "Natasha, does Clint know Agent Coulson is dead?"
"No."
He looked alarmed. "Agent Coulson talked about him on the ride to the Carrier. He told me they'd worked together a long time."
"They did." Natasha wasn't sure how to explain it to him. "Before you slept, did you ever lose someone that close?"
"Yes." Steve set down his food. Suddenly, his schwarma wasn't so appealing.
"And what did you do, the day after?"
"I drove a plane into the ocean." It sounded bad. Steve knew that as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "It wasn't like that. It was a sacrifice play, but not suicide."
"Of course not." She ate another fry. "Tony, we're going to need a place to stay, at least tonight. Can you manage that?"
Tony startled out of his half doze. "Yeah, I can manage it. As long as you guys are okay in generic spare bedrooms."
"I was thinking of quietly sneaking away, actua-" Bruce cut off mid-sentence as Tony latched onto his arm.
"You're not going anywhere, big guy. You're getting a sweet employment contract and your own lab. Your duties may occasionally involve staying up very late and making sure I don't blow myself up. "
Any objections Bruce might have made were put aside when Clint came back in, alone, his face completely blank. He sat back down, and pulled a plate of fries over. "Fury says my building was damaged in the fighting. I don't even have a toothbrush or a razor. It was all in my quarters at PEGASUS. You want to get a hotel, Tasha?"
"Clint," And Steve threw himself on the grenade. "Did you and Fury talk about anything else?"
Clint stole the garlic paste from Natasha . "He told me about Phil. You can all stop dancing around it."
Natasha reached over and he moved away. Not a flinch, but a dodge to keep the garlic paste out of her reach. She didn't know what to say. She'd been prepared for tears, a breakdown. She hadn't been prepared for him to just carry on, like nothing had happened. "We're staying with Stark, at least until we can send Loki back to Asgard."
"Okay." He looked at the garlic paste and seemed to reconsider. "Here, you can have it back. I'm going to go get some ketchup."
"Is he always so? I have known warriors of Asgard who could only dream of being so stoic." Thor had hit it on the nose.
"No, not at all."
"Shock?" Bruce pushed his chair back and started to get up. "I can check him over."
"Not in public." She's reasonably sure he's not going to kill himself with ketchup. It should be safe enough to wait until they get back to the Tower.
Tony put them in the same room. Whether it's because he actually noticed that Clint was acting oddly or because he thinks they're fucking, it was the right thing to do.
She curled beside him in the big bed and rested her head on his shoulder. It had been a bad few days. "Clint, are you okay?"
"I'm fine." His face was still painfully blank but he ruffled her hair.
"I'm not." She is so far from okay, bruised and battered and one of the only two people she really trusted is dead. He wraped his arms around her and she doesn't cry, although she shook. It's not an act, it's not, but still, she'd expected him to cry once he'd seen her weaken.
Instead, he just held her and whispered, "It's going to be okay, Nat, I promise." The words were sincere. Clint was perfectly calm, and he meant it.
Natasha had saved his life, but maybe he hadn't come back all the way. There was only one way to be sure.
After they sent Loki back to Asgard, they drove to Westchester for the weekend.
They pulled up in front of Xavier's mansion and Clint sighed. "I hate it when he goes poking through my head."
"If you ever want to work again, you're going to have to do this." She grabed their bags from the back of the car.
He was wearing that blank face again when he took his bag from her. "What are you doing while Professor X is digging through my brain?"
Logan was sparring on the lawn with one of the students. He wasn't wearing a shirt. It had been a rough week, she could use the distraction. "The usual."
"I've done extensive readings. Mr. Barton is fine."
Natasha gave him an even stare. "He was under mind control for several days and his puppet master killed his partner of ten years. He has shown absolutely no grief, or sadness. He cannot be fine."
"Ms. Romanova," Charles Xavier rolled his chair forward. "Perhaps that was a poor choice of words, but I stand by my analysis. All I can tell you is that his mind is his own. Anything beyond that would be an invasion of his privacy."
She doesn't believe him. She can't, because it means everything she's ever believed about Clint is a lie.
They go back to SHIELD on Monday, because she can't think of what else to do. They could run away, go into deep cover, but when she suggests it, Clint just shakes his head. "I want to go back to work."
"Alright." She puts the car in gear and starts the drive back to Manhattan. "Do you want to stay with me? Stark said it's going to be at least a month until our apartments in the Tower are ready."
"No." He puts on his sun glasses and stares vacantly out the window. "I know you hate sharing quarters with me. I leave my dirty clothes everywhere and I drink all your vodka. If there's no space at headquarters, I can get a room on the Carrier."
"You hate staying on the Carrier." He doesn't answer, and she turns the car onto 87 so they can start their trip south. "I understand what happened to you. I'll listen, if you want to talk."
He doesn't look at her, but to Natasha's surprise he does start to talk. "I'm having trouble sleeping. Nightmares about what he made me do. You don't need that going on in your living room."
They spent the rest of the 45 minute drive talking about control and learning to live in your own skin again, but he didn't mention Phil, not once, as if it wasn't bothering him at all.
She came in to work on Wednesday to find Clint packing. "I've got an assignment."
"Solo?" He was a sniper, it was his nature, but she couldn't believe Fury would put him back into the field so soon. "Who's going as your handler?"
"I'm playing Fury's body guard while he meets with some suits. It's not that kind of mission." He was packing light, at least weapons wise. There are enough generic SHIELD uniforms in there for a week.
"How long will you be gone?" His clothes were going to be a mess. His neatly packed bags on missions must have been gifts from Phil.
"A few weeks? Fury's in deep shit with everyone right now." Clint zipped the bag closed, the toe of one sock sticking out at the end. "I salvaged some stuff out of the rubble of my apartment. If Stark finishes my rooms before I get back, will you move it for me? I don't want some random agent sleeping in here with my stuff."
"Of course." He grabbed a second bag, already packed on the end of the bed, and gave her a hug goodbye. When he'd gone, she opened the boxes. There wasn't much, he'd never had much, but Phil had owned a large collection of Captain America memorabilia, some of it locked in special cases. If Clint's copy of The Dark Knight had survived, the best of Phil's collection should have too. There was nothing in the boxes that belonged to Phil.
Natasha sat down on the bed and felt lost.