It was nearly a year before he saw Natasha again.

Months after the fall of the Triskelion, Rogers contacted him, requesting his presence in Manhattan. By then, sufficient time had passed for Clint to feel confident that he could return to the States without finding the U.S. Marine Corps on his tail. He took the next flight to New York and arrived at Stark Tower the following Friday.

"Good evening, Agent Barton." JARVIS's familiar, accented voice greeted him as he entered the lobby. "It's good to have you back."

"Good to be back, Jarv," Clint said, glancing fondly at the ceiling.

"Mr. Stark has asked me to inform you that there are now private sleeping quarters available on the eighty-fifth floor. Should you choose to remain in the tower for the night, you are welcome to any room you prefer."

Clint nodded. "So where's Nat, and everyone else?"

"The Avengers are assembled on the ninety-third floor. Shall I let them know you've arrived?"

"No, thanks." Clint smiled as he started for the elevators. "Think I'll surprise her."

"Very well, sir."

. . .

Clint found the team gathered in a brightly-lit conference room, just down the hall from the elevators. They were all there; Banner and Thor, conversing by the table, Stark, thumbing through a file. And there, chatting with Rogers by the wall, was Natasha.

A smile crossed Clint's face upon sight of her. He realized suddenly how long it had been since he'd seen her last; how much he'd needed to see her. He could still only discern her profile as she spoke indistinctly to Rogers, but then Rogers noticed him and nodded a greeting, and she turned and saw him. She smiled across the room, and he grinned back, disproportionately pleased by the gesture.

Natasha headed toward him, Rogers following.

"Looks like we can cancel the search party," she teased, drawing to a halt in front of him.

"Guess so" was the only response he could formulate. Her eyes twinkled as she smirked up at him. Standing so close to her after so long was making him feel almost giddy, and he knew he was grinning like an idiot. He struggled to control his features.

"How's the arm?" she asked, arching her eyebrows playfully.

"I'll live," he replied.

She tilted her head, amusement showing in her eyes. "You sure?"

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Hey. For the record? I let you knock me onto my ass."

She snorted. "Keep telling yourself that."

(At this point, Rogers said something and shook his hand. Clint barely registered the greeting and managed a vague response before Rogers moved away.)

"How have things been since D.C.?" Natasha asked, folding her arms

Clint shrugged. "Well, you know. Been keeping my head down. Moving around a lot, trying to stay under the radar. You?"

"Same deal. I was pretty much a ghost before Steve contacted me." She quirked an eyebrow. "I wouldn't have come, but I wanted to see the remodel."

"So you been here a while?"

She half-smiled. "Long enough to know it's too big for the six of us. Seven, counting Pepper," she corrected herself. "Steve and I have been here a few weeks now, and we haven't seen half of it."

"So Stark really did a number on it, huh?"

She nodded. "From what I hear, the damage after New York was pretty extensive. He's been working on it since and pretty much revamped the place." She glanced up at him, smirking a little. "I've been hearing it called 'Avengers Tower'. Has a nice ring to it."

Clint nodded absently, a smile playing at his lips as her gaze moved across the room. Her smile, her voice, her expressions, it was all reminding him just how long it had been, just how much he missed out on when he was away. Until then, he hadn't really been aware of how much he enjoyed talking to her, just talking. She was his best friend. And it had been a while since he'd really acted like it.

She was watching Stark and Rogers across the room, distracted, and before he could stop himself, he said quietly, "I missed you."

She looked up at him then, and her face softened. He shoved his hands into his pockets and tipped his chin down, watching her earnestly.

She seemed about to say something, but at that moment, Thor called out:

"Now that Agent Barton has joined us, we ought to begin the discussion."

The others began to move toward the conference table, and Natasha followed. Feeling rather frustrated, as though he had been interrupted from something important, Clint followed, sliding into a corner seat. Rogers stood at the head of the table.

"Alright," he said. "Let's get started."

. . .

The conference was brief, and more an update on developments in the intelligence community than a briefing, which was what Clint had been expecting. The matter at hand was that, not long after New York, SHIELD's Scientific Training and Tactical Intelligence Operative Network had been compromised, and Loki's mythological scepter had been appropriated by HYDRA. Now HYDRA was using the scepter for their own misguided purposes, and the risk involved with their possession of it grew as their scientists acquired more knowledge about its properties and abilities. At present, the Avengers could take no action concerning the scepter, as SHIELD did not yet know its location. SHIELD had teams searching across the globe, and Commander Hill had asked Rogers to update the Avengers, and to have them on standby when the scepter was located. As soon as Rogers judged that it was safe to assemble the Avengers again, he had contacted each of them. Now, all they could do was wait.

When the meeting was over, the team retired to one of the many lounge areas in the Tower: a fairly small room whose warm, quiet lamplight illumined a circle of cozy armchairs and sofas arranged around a low coffee table. Pepper joined them there not long afterward, having worked late at Stark Industries that evening. As months had passed since most of them had seen one another, they naturally had a lot to catch up on, but after filling each other in, the conversation gradually turned to the subject of the conference.

"So let me get this straight," Banner said, sitting forward in his armchair. "Loki's scepter was being held at SHIELD S.T.A.T.I.O.N., and then this Smith guy just crosses off his colleague and runs off with the scepter. So Smith was HYDRA, right?"

"Sure looks that way," Stark confirmed, joggling his knees up and down. "But it's also looking like he didn't jump on the Nazi bandwagon till pretty late in the game, probably around the time this went down."

Banner frowned, scratching his head. "And do we know how someone so volatile ended up at SHIELD S.T.A.T.I.O.N.?"

"Well, he'd actually been in ops for a few years before he was moved to the S.T.A.T.I.O.N.," Stark replied. "Turns out he wanted to be assigned to the Helicarrier, but Hill did an eval and realized he was a little psycho. Put him in R&D instead."

"Maybe there is more to this story." Thor was rubbing his chin, brow furrowed. "This Mark Smith had been studying and experimenting with my brother's scepter before he killed his companion and joined HYDRA. Perhaps the scepter had an effect on him and caused him to think and act irrationally."

"We won't know for sure until we can get the scepter back into SHIELD labs and find out what it's capable of," Rogers said. "For now, I'd say it's unlikely. Smith's colleague wasn't affected, and we know Smith had a history of unpredictable behavior. Still, it's worth exploring."

Clint was frowning at Rogers, only half-listening to the speculations. When they'd settled into the lounge an hour earlier, he'd glanced at Natasha, automatically expecting her to join him on the couch.

Instead, she'd surprised him by taking a seat next to Rogers, and now he was trying not to feel jealous as they murmured to one another between general conversation with the others. Natasha did trust people, more so now than before, but Clint was accustomed to being the only person she considered a friend. He knew that she and Rogers had spent a lot of time together in DC, so it made sense that they'd bonded. He also knew he should be happy that Natasha was finally opening up to other people and making new friends, but strangely, he felt almost irritated.

"...and that's pretty much all we know right now," Stark was saying.

"So we still don't know exactly what prompted Smith to go all renegade on us?" Banner asked.

"They're working on it," Stark replied. "Our best bet right now's another mole inside S.T.A.T.I.O.N.. Someone had to have introduced him to the dark side."

"It seems like a pretty risky time for HYDRA to have an inside man," Pepper commented. "No one's loyalties are clear right now; anyone could say they were spying on SHIELD and report on HYDRA."

"Not to mention infiltrators who could have their own agenda and inform on both agencies," Banner pointed out.

"Yeah, well intel security's a big deal at SHIELD. ALways has been," Stark said. "The stakes may be higher this time, but it's certainly nothing new…"

Clint's attention slid again when Natasha leaned over to say something to Rogers. Rogers bent his head toward her, listening; his arm was resting on the back of the couch just behind her, so that he was almost putting his arm around her.

Something malicious flared hotly in Clint's chest, and he scowled.

Cut it out, he chided himself, averting his gaze. You're being a jerk and you know it. It doesn't matter who she spends time with, and it's none of your business anyway.

But, despite his good intentions, his resentment didn't fade. He glared at the floor, determined to quell his childish pettiness.

Since when did I get so territorial? he wondered, genuinely confused. I'm not usually like this, am I? She isn't mine; I know that. She isn't anyone's. So why do I care so much?

"Well, I think I'd better call it a night," Banner said, getting to his feet.

"Hey, there's brand-new rooms down on the eighty-fifth floor," Stark said. "Pick any one you want. Jarvis'll show you if you can't find it."

"Thanks, Tony," Banner called as he headed to the elevators.

Silence hung in the air as his footsteps receded down the corridor.

"So what's next for the Avengers?" Pepper asked at length.

Stark shrugged. "More waiting. The government has stopped trying to kill us for the most part, but until we know more, we can't actually do anything yet."

"When SHIELD calls us, we will be ready," Thor said.

Another thoughtful silence passed. Then Rogers shifted.

"Think I'm gonna turn in, too," he said. "See you guys. 'Night, Tasha." He leaned over and kissed Natasha on the lips.

Something heavy collided with Clint's chest, and he couldn't breathe. He was frozen, stunned, and for a minute he couldn't even think.

The next thing he knew, Rogers had left the room, and the others were calmly resuming their conversation as if nothing unusual had occurred.

Clint's head was buzzing, and he struggled to make sense of what had just happened. What was going on? Why did no one else seem concerned? And why did he have a sick feeling in his stomach?

He mumbled an excuse and got up, heading for the hall. The others might have told him goodnight; he wasn't sure. He wasn't paying attention.

Somehow he found his way to the elevators and pressed the button. He had hardly stepped on when he heard quick, light footsteps coming up the hall. The doors started to close, then jolted back open as a hand stopped them, and Pepper slid in beside him.

"You didn't know," she said as the doors closed and the elevator trundled downward. It was an observation rather than a question.

Clint considered playing dumb – didn't know about what? – but decided against it. The conversation was inevitable at this point, and Pepper was probably the best person to talk to about this anyway. Whatever 'this' was.

"What gave it away?" he asked instead, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Pepper smiled slightly but didn't supply the obvious answer. In the moment, he'd lacked the presence of mind to mask his reaction.

Clint cleared his throat, trying to appear more casual than he felt. "So they're…?"

"They're together, yes," Pepper said. She was watching him closely, and he could tell he wasn't fooling her. Though exactly why this was bothering him so much, he wasn't sure, and was somewhat wary of pondering.

"How long?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I don't know. At least since they've been here. Probably longer."

Clint knew the two of them had worked together in DC while he was in Ontario, so they could well have been "together", whatever that entailed, as long ago as all that. And what had Natasha said?—"Steve and I have been here a few weeks now, and we haven't seen half of it." Not Rogers – Steve. And this meant that it had been going on for at least a few weeks. Yet Natasha hadn't bothered to tell him. Of course, she wasn't required to tell him anything about her personal life, and he knew that. But they were best friends, and he just couldn't fathom why she would have wanted to hide any of this from him.

As if reading his mind, Pepper said, "I don't think she was trying to keep it from you, Clint. She probably just assumed you knew."

"But she told all of you," Clint said, rather peevishly.

Pepper chuckled wryly as the elevator dinged open and they stepped off. "Well, she didn't exactly make an announcement," she said as they started down the hall. "You know Natasha. She's not the kind of person who just goes around volunteering that kind of information. Tony suspected something when they got here, and you know how he hates secrets. He had it out of Steve early on."

"And Thor and Banner… they know?" Clint asked as they rounded a corner.

Pepper nodded. "It's been common knowledge around here for a while now. I think the novelty has worn off a little, and none of us are really used to thinking of it as a secret or even as surprising anymore. I just happened to glance at you when they kissed, and when I saw your face I realized you didn't know…"

Clint was silent for a moment, thinking.

He felt Pepper look at him. "I'm sorry, Clint."

This sentiment was so in agreement with the confusion and disappointment he was feeling that it took a minute for him to process that it was an unusual thing to say in this situation. Why should she feel sorry for him? Shouldn't they be happy for their friends? And, come to think of it, why was he disappointed?

He stopped short and turned to her, puzzled. "What for?"

Pepper looked at him in surprise. "Well, it's always been obvious to me that you have a thing for Natasha."

Clint stared at her.

The elevator chime sounded, and Pepper glanced up the hall. "I should go now," she said. "Goodnight, Clint."

She continued on down the hall. Clint stared after her, stunned.

So Pepper thought he had a "thing" for Natasha. Thought it was "obvious". Granted, it wasn't the mere idea of having any kind of a "thing" for her that he was confounded by; he'd be lying if he said he'd never thought about it. They'd worked in close proximity for years; they were young, and she was witty and talented and intelligent and fascinating and so beautiful. So, naturally, there'd been a time, maybe even a few times, when he'd wondered. When he'd considered the idea of their being… something more.

What had really taken him by surprise was "it's always been obvious". Like it was something ongoing. Perceptible. Whatever romantic feelings Clint may have harbored for Natasha at any point in the past, he'd convinced himself were no more than a passing fancy, a daydream. An inevitable result of their physical and emotional closeness. Certainly not something that was "obvious", that had been affecting him for years and continued to affect him now. Certainly not something that was real.

"Made up your mind yet?"

The voice—her voice—startled him, and his head jerked toward the sound. She was striding down the hall, smirking, and he couldn't, he couldn't do this right now. Not when things were so uncertain. Not when he was still trying to figure out exactly how much she meant to him.

"I wouldn't lose sleep over it," she said, pausing outside a nearby door and grasping the knob. A smile was playing at the corners of her green eyes. "They're all the same. Master bathroom. Kitchenette. Stellar view of the city."

Her voice was light and edged with impish laughter. Her eyes crinkled as she looked at him, and he thought he'd never fully appreciated just how much they could sparkle when there was laughter hidden behind them.

Then Natasha frowned. She let go of the doorknob and approached, drawing to a stop in front of him.

"What's wrong?"

Dammit.

Clint shrugged. "Nothing."

Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms. Twisted her mouth skeptically to one side.

"Nothing, it's just…" It's just that you're my best friend and you're beautiful and I know that you kissing Rogers shouldn't be a problem but I'm starting to think maybe it is…

"Barton?"

"It's nothing," Clint repeated. He paused and looked away. "At least, nothing I want to talk about."

A moment passed.

Then Natasha was nodding slowly, taking half a step back, and he knew that she wasn't going to push it, that she would respect his silence.

But then she said, "Since when do you keep secrets from me?" And he scowled, because wasn't she one to talk about keeping secrets?

"Since when have you and Rogers been a thing?" he retorted, before he could stop himself.

Natasha's eyebrows shot up; clearly this was not what she had been expecting. He could see her mind whirring, trying to connect this question to his behavior and coming up empty.

"Not long," she said finally. "Why?"

Clint avoided her eyes. "I dunno, I just… thought you would've told me," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "I mean, not because—I mean, I just…" He trailed off.

Natasha was studying him closely.

"Thought you would've told me," he finished lamely.

Natasha was quiet for a long moment.

"So you're pissed I didn't tell you about me and Steve."

Clint shrugged.

Natasha quirked her lips to one side again.

"I forgot you didn't know," she said, and he believed her. And he hated it. Because at least if she had, for whatever reason, wanted to keep this from him, he would have been singled out. Set apart from the others somehow. Instead he was simply forgotten.

"Is that all?" she asked.

Clint swallowed.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "That's all."

He chose the nearest doorknob and slipped into the room. Natasha didn't try to stop him.

Clint waited until Natasha had left before collapsing on his bed and covering his face with his hands. Pepper was right. He had a thing for Natasha, though exactly what kind of a "thing" remained unclear. Maybe it was love; he didn't know. All he knew was that he cared about her more than anyone else in the world, more than he could ever remember having cared about someone, that seeing her again was like waking up, that it was becoming hard to focus on anything else when she was in the room.

And maybe if it weren't for that stupid Ontario job, maybe if he hadn't been MIA during those crucial months when everyone was deciding who to trust, maybe if he'd argued with her and convinced her to stay with him back in that safe house, then maybe Natasha wouldn't have fallen in with Steve, and maybe they wouldn't have taken this new step beyond friendship, and maybe he could have seriously considered the possibility of her being more than just a friend.

Because he was only just starting to realize what he'd unconsciously felt all along: that if Natasha was going to be with someone, then that person… should be him.

But Clint had no illusions about their relationship. He knew exactly what it was and what it wasn't; he knew there was nothing he could cite as evidence that Natasha thought of him as anything other than a friend.

Because she didn't. And why should she? Of course it would be Rogers; Rogers had it all. Smart, sensible, good-looking, courteous, dependable. More than that, Rogers was simply a good person, something Clint wasn't sure he could claim of himself.

And who was he? An archer. An idiot. A friend whose messes she seemed to be constantly cleaning up, when he wasn't dragging her into them with him. A man who had never treated her as well as she deserved, and who probably never could, because she was just so incredible and so unique and so extraordinary. A fool who was finally realizing what he should have realized years ago. Simply put, a loser.

And now that he knew all this, now that he had thought it all through, he couldn't tell her. And not just because there was no point now that she was with someone else. Even had she been attainable, he wouldn't have told her the truth.

He just couldn't tell her now that he realized how unworthy he was, and how much she deserved someone else, someone better.

He couldn't tell her. Of that he was certain. There was only one thing he could do now.

He had to get over her.

Probably not the development you were expecting? I think the theme/feel of chapter one is slightly different from the rest of the story; upcoming chapters will resemble this one more closely. Except for chapter three, which somehow turned into a mini action movie.