"Natasha, wait." Her shoulders slumped, ever so slightly. It had been naive of her to think she could talk to Clint before, well, she had to talk to the others about Clint.
The Avengers were making her soft. No good Russian should ever trust in something as flimsy as hope.
She sighed and turned around, a hand brushing auburn waves out of her eyes. "I know, Steve. I know."
"So, what's it going to be? Walking the plank or firing squad?"
Natasha couldn't help but roll her eyes at her friend and fellow SHIELD agent, who was cutting a miserable figure sitting in a half-dark room, running his hands over the bow limbs. It was his daily ritual, one he assured her he could do blindfolded. His fingers stilled, the bow resting in his lap, much like its master: high-strung but forced to be at rest.
Natasha shrugged, even if it felt like her shoulders were made of lead. "Tony decided to put a moon door on the landing deck. He thought it would appease your inner fanboy."
"He really is the worst Stark," Clint said with a snort. Natasha raised an eyebrow. That distinction, in her mind, would always be held by Ned and his unhealthy devotion to doing the noble but dumb thing. "Go ahead and tell me what my punishment is. I'm a big boy. A big and very stupid boy."
"You're on indefinite suspension." No sense in delaying the inevitable. A guillotine might be gruesome, but it was preferable to death by a thousand inefficient hacks. "Tony and Cap made the call but we all voted."
To Clint's credit, his only reaction was a sad, off-kilter smile. "Secret ballot?"
Nat gently took the bow from Clint's hand so she could sit besides him. "No." Her fingers tightened around the cool metal. "But...it was unanimous."
Clint shook his head, then rested it on her shoulder."Don't feel bad. Nobody would blame you. I definitely don't."
Nat pulled away, turning to face Clint. "I don't feel bad, and there's only one person in this room I'd blame, even if he had reasons." She felt her jaw tighten. "Damn it, you should have talked to me. I'm not Tony. I would have listened."
"I know, Nat. And I would have realized it was an incredibly stupid idea, and we wouldn't even be here now," he said. At least he had the sense not to argue now, but that sense would have been really useful before all this. "And if I was stubborn, you would have beat some common sense into me."
"I'm a big girl. I use my words first," Nat said, a wry tone creeping into her voice. "And if the words don't work, I use a roundhouse kick. It's remarkably effective."
Clint smiled, rubbing just above his temple. "Does wonders for brainwashing," he said, and this time Nat put her head on his shoulder. She clasped a hand around his. There wasn't anything she could say that hadn't already been said. "Be honest, Nat. Is there anything I can do?"
Natasha raised her brows. "Take down Doom, singlehanded." Her hold on Clint's hand turned into a gentle pat. "Preferably by the end of the day."
Clint's jaw clenched as he answered. "Be honest and realistic."
"I don't know." She lifted her head and turned her gaze upward. She hoped the desperation in her eyes wasn't too obvious. "You get involved and Loki is...he's going to-"
"Going to kill me." Clint furrowed his brow. "You're saying that like it's something I don't know."
Nat pursed her lips. "It's not the killing you part I'm worried about. It's how long he said it would take."
"Years?"
"Clint, he's thousands of years old. I think he has a slightly different definition of long."
Even in the dim light, Nat could see Clint's face take on a disturbing pallor.
"I don't want you to die," she said, trying not to think of the or worse Loki had so vividly described. "But I know you. You're not going to let a suspension or a pissed-off demi-god stop you from trying to redeem yourself." A smile touched her lips. "Take it from an expert in atonement."
Clint stroked her cheek, as a hint of color started to return to his face. "I promised I'd never hold your past over your head. That's still a valid promise." He sighed. "But what I did, it's not tragic backstory. It's a pretty fucked up here and now."
"It was one bad call," she said, a little more firmly than she intended. "Okay, a really, really bad call, but...you know my record better than anyone here ever will. You know what I was."
"A brainwashed child soldier?"
She turned her head away, her gaze fixing on a half-dead peace lily. "A monster."
Clint turned her gaze back to him, her chin nestled between his strong, steady fingers. "Don't ever say that. The people who did this to you, they're monsters. Doom? Monster. You got dealt a bad hand. Yeah, you played it a little longer than was good for you but you stepped away from the table. That's what matters." He took in a deep breath. "And what matters is I'm going to help get Kara back."
Nat stood slowly, handing the bow to Clint as her lips brushed against his forehead. It was a gesture of forgiveness and blessing, and although she'd be loathe to consider herself a goddess she knew Clint would be the first to disagree.
"I can't promise I won't do anything stupid, but I'll try to make it worth it," Clint said, with another lopsided smile and a glint in his blue eyes. He paused, the smile flickering to a pensive pursing of his lips. "Nat, how do you tell the difference? Between the monsters and...megalomaniacal assholes who got a bad hand but...they're thinking of putting it down."
The Russian smiled, shrugging her shoulders. "Easy. You tell when they actually put the cards down."
