This chapter is a little more team-centric than the others. Also, we look back at a failed attempted by Clint to make Clintasha canon.
I own none of this.
Natasha felt haunted. Bruce's hurtful words echoing inside her head. Shadows of what she's had with Bruce were everywhere; the morning she'd returned she'd open the cupboard to be face to face with Bruce's arsenal of teas. She'd slammed the door shut and avoided tea until Steve emptied it upon Clint's request.
All the men had noted a change. Tony noted that his manhood wasn't threatened as often as it once was. Steve noted that she wasn't as open to their casual conversations as she had been before. The calm and interested tone had turned into one of displeasure and boredom. Every time Steve tried having a conversation with her, her response always made him feel as if she didn't really want him around.
When Thor returned from his visit-a month and a half after Bruce had left, right between a rather solemn Christmas and a dreary looking New Years- even he noticed. But only after the team had broken the news that Bruce had left. He saw that she was more reserved in the group than before, not offering her opinions or jovial threats as often as he recalled. But he wasn't a certain as the others, since he'd just shown up. He wasn't sure if this had been a gradual shift in his absence or a sudden one brought on by Dr. Banner's departure.
He brought up the subject after Natasha retired for the night on his second day in the tower, they all sat in the living area in Stark Tower. They all felt guilty about thinking this, especially Clint: but as soon as Natasha left, the mood in the room brightened considerably. Natasha had taken her dark could of depression to bed with her.
"She seems melancholy, does she not?" Thor took a sip of the hot chocolate Steve had just put down.
Clint, who, much to his joy was out of his casts and was also free to hold a mug and walk around, nodded and sighed. "That's one way to put it."
"She seems depressed." Tony said, strange undertones of concern present.
"Thats another way to put it" Clint said quietly.
"Well of course she is, Stark," Steve said, "She and Bruce were together, then he just got up and left."
Thor shook his head, still not quite certain this man, whom he'd deemed a valuable and dependable teammate had just left. Clint looked around, wondering where this would head.
"But she'll bounce back." Tony proclaimed, the confidence and non- shalance back in his voice. Steve, however much he too believed she'd bounce back, looked to Clint.
They expected him to know. Clint was her closest friend in the building now, the only one she trusted. However, Clint felt very nervous as the remaining members of his team looked at him to deliver a verdict, because, he didn't know. He wasn't sure if bouncing back was an option this time. He'd tried to talk to her, as soon as she was back she came back to his room. He'd tried to talk to her, but she just sat there, looking at him incased in plaster and unable to move. He'd watched her in return, but couldn't get a read on her. Was she mad a him? Was she blaming him for Bruce leaving? He was the one incased in plaster, he was the subject of Bruce's guilt and could therefore be considered his reason for leaving. Bruce had hurt her deeply, he'd never seen her like this, she looked like she'd just lost everything. Was she thinking about her options now?
I'm still an option, Clint thought to himself. He'd told her how he felt years ago, before all this business with The Avengers Initiative. But she hadn't wanted him then. No, she'd said, I couldn't do that. She'd said it as if he'd just asked her if she could take off her head off and still live. She'd answered as if he had just been joking, not a serious question, not something up for serious consideration. He'd been hurt after that and she knew it. Distance seemed to be her solution for everything, even at that time. So she'd become more reserved then, closing herself off to see if that could have shrunk his feelings for her. But it couldn't, so he'd settled for being her best friend, her brother. The was okay with that, as long as he could still be there for her.
Clint saw that she'd started it again, the distancing. It was the subtlest but most problematic change in Natasha over the past few weeks.
She trained more, more punches thrown at the bag and more shots fired at the target until the bang of a gun or solid thwap of leather was just something you were used to hearing. Like your own heartbeat. She'd get up early, go down to the gym an practice flips,kicks and agility until JARVIS told her there was hot coffee upstairs. She didn't interact with anybody by choice, something they guys noticed and respected, all except for Clint, who knew what the distancing could lead to.
"I miss sparring," he'd said, " These cast come off and we're having a match." She warned him to be carful, she didn't want him hurt again. Clint saw right through that though, she just didn't want to give him an opening to talk to her about anything. But Clint had insisted. It was three days after he'd gotten the casts off and four days before Thor had arrived when she finally took him up on the offer..
It had been the typical back and forth for the first third. Then it was just him trying to keep her at bay. He noted the dark red streaks that were the scabs from punching bags whiz by his face. As he moved his torso back in a bend he felt the hard impact of her shins as he took his legs out from under him. Her legs were moving at an insta-bruise force and she was on top of him before he hit the ground.
He gasped as she pressed her forearm against his throat, not enough to make him black out, but enough to make breathing a hindrance. It was a lot more violent and intense than he remembered their sparring sessions to be. He didn't think to much about it since he was having a slight issue breathing.
But as she rotated her neck slightly, forearm still on his windpipe, making her hair move away from her he felt his breath catch a moment.
She looked him in the eyes for just a moment. Her green eyes were dark, flat. There wasn't any humor present in them, it was a cold and hostile look. Her mouth was set in a thin straight line and her forehead was tense with concentration, the look of a predator.
She jumped off him, Clint gasped as his windpipe opened up again. The sudden rush of oxygen to his brain stunning him for a moment. As Natasha walked away he knew he'd seen that look before.
It was in Holland, she was his mark and he was supposed to kill her. She'd always been one step ahead though, and had to ditch the bow and arrow for favor of a more direct approach. She could've killed him right there. But he saw her as something that they could use.
He'd also seen her face. It had looked exactly how she'd just looked a moment ago. Unyielding and ready to throw you down. That was the face of somebody who was assassin through and through.
All the training made sense to him then. He knew what she was trying to do. She was trying to uncover Natasha the machine. Natasha the hunter, Natasha the killer. She was trying to become that stone warrior who didn't feel anything, emotionally or otherwise. She trying to get as far from human as she could get.
Clint looked up from the swirling contents of his mug, which had been thoroughly engrossing as he sifted through his thoughts, trying to decide what answer he would give the rest of the team. "Yeah, she'll bounce back." Clint echoed, Maybe.
Like I said, this chapter was more for those people who weren't Natasha or Bruce. Other's would've been affected by this too ;p For those of you waiting to see Bruce... I'd like to tell you. But then why would you read the story?