Nat barely glanced up when Clint stepped back out onto the balcony and handed her one of the mugs before sitting back in his own seat and letting out a slow breath, pushing a hand through his hair. He fixed his eyes on the skyline of the city and leaned back in his seat before taking a long sip from his mug. They finished their coffee in comfortable silence before going back inside and heading to their respective quarters. Clint refused to force her to talk to him before she was ready to come to him. He knew that would just result in her throwing her walls up, shutting him out, and likely refusing to talk to anyone about it ever.
Days passed and then weeks. Natasha declined Clint's offer to share his room, insisting that she was sleeping fine, but he and everyone else in the tower knew that she was spending long hours jogging in the training room after midnight to wear herself out. She was the last one to retire to her room at night and the first one up in the morning and few of the hours in between were spent in her bed. The moment her mandated two weeks of "rest" had passed, she went back to working at a punching bag whenever she had a free moment. Clint grew increasingly worried, knowing that shoving all of her emotions and feelings down for so long would only make them harder to deal with when they came to the surface, but he still refused to push her into talking before she was comfortable.
Nat had been feeling guilty ever since that day at breakfast that they'd spent in silence. She knew Clint was a man of his word, but he proved it over again every day that he let her continue to dance around the elephant in the room and she was starting to feel the guilt grow heavier every time she saw him and they skirted the issue. It was a well-rehearsed dance between the two of them by now, but she could feel him growing impatient, knowing that he wasn't the best at ignoring an issue, especially when it was hurting someone he cared about.
It was a Thursday evening when someone finally intervened. It was nearly 10:00 and Nat had given in and headed down to the training room earlier than she usually did. She was working at the bag, her back to the door and her music playing loudly as she took out all of her frustrations on the bag, her hair tied back in a lazy ponytail and sweat beading up on her forehead.
"You know you're killing him, right?"
Nat jumped a little at the sudden sound in the room, immediately dropping her hands and telling Friday to pause her music before turning to face the unexpected visitor. Coulson stepped into the room and tossed her a towel which she caught and wiped across her face.
"You're killing him and you're not helping yourself any either," he continued, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest as he looked at her.
Nat shrugged a little. "If it was really killing him, he would break down and ask me about it," she said, knowing she was lying through her teeth.
"Don't bullshit me, Romanoff."
Natasha's eyes widened at the casual curse that was so out-of-character for Coulson, but he continued on without giving her a chance to speak.
"Clint is moping around my office much too often, asking every day if you've filed your mission report yet because even reading that would make him feel better than not knowing anything about your two weeks in hell. It also hasn't escaped my notice that you've been practically living down here in this gym, even before you were supposed to be training." He sighed heavily as he looked at her. "Please just get it over with and talk to him. You'll both feel so much better once you have."
"It's not that simple, Coulson," she sighed, tugging her hair out of its ponytail and tying it back up again a moment later.
"That's just the thing, Natasha. It is that simple. Or at least it can be as soon as you get over yourself and do it," he sounded exasperated and looked like he'd spent long hours in his office this week.
"I don't understand why you care so much about whether I talk to Barton or not," she replied stubbornly. She never had liked being told what was best for her.
"Oh I don't. But you're about to care a lot more than you do right now. Because now that your required two weeks of medical leave is over, you are suspended from active duty effective immediately, until you can pass my evaluation and I have no concerns about sending you back out in the field."
Nat's jaw dropped as she looked at him, searching his face for any hint that he was being less-than-serious. "Tell me you're joking," she said flatly when she didn't find one.
Coulson simply shook his head. "I take the well-being of everyone on this team very seriously, Agent Romanoff. If I don't believe that you are 100% fit to be back out in the field, I refuse to send you out there and put your life – as well as the lives of others – at risk."
"So you're going to keep me here in the tower on lockdown until I talk to Clint about this whole thing?" Nat's posture was stiff and her jaw was clenched tight as she stared Phil down.
"That's not what I said. I merely said you have to pass my evaluation. When I feel you're ready, I'll take you off your suspension. However, I will say it's going to be hard to pass that evaluation without talking with someone about that mission, even if that someone isn't Barton," he kept his voice even and unwavering. Being on the receiving end of Natasha's anger was nothing new to him and it hadn't taken him long to learn to keep himself cool and composed in the face of it.
"This is bullshit, Coulson. You can't force me to talk to someone."
"I think you'll find that I can. And I suggest you do so soon because we both know how much you hate to sit around and do nothing."
She watched him for a long moment, taking in the lines of his face and the underlying tension in his posture that he was working so hard to hide. He didn't want to do this to her any more than she wanted him to. Coulson was like that. He'd invariably choose the course of action that made him the bad guy if he believed it was for the better of one of his agents. It was why she and Clint usually just referred to him as "Dad" among themselves.
She finally blew out a long breath "Fine," she said stiffly. "I'll talk to him. And then I'll fill out that mission report that Fury's been nagging me for since the second I got back."
She bent and picked up her sweatshirt and water bottle off the floor, tugging the hoodie on over her head.
"Am I dismissed?" she asked with a bored look on her face. She knew she was being a whole lot bitchier about this whole thing than was necessary, but she was frustrated and angry so she didn't really care.
Coulson sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. "Yes, of course you can go. Goodnight, Romanoff."
She simply nodded back as she stepped past him and out of the training room, disappearing down the hall.
