A/N: All I'll say is this chapter was being an assbutt. And still is.

Very mild trigger warning for abuse once more. I promise, it's nothing graphic.

"My help?" It was Clint's turn to be surprised. "I don't know if you've noticed, darlin', but my abilities are somewhat lessened as of late."

"But you're not staying here forever." That much was true – he still needed to save his father, though he'd have to head back home first and gather a proper army for a full on assault. There was no hope of anything less at this point. "You could escort me to the nearest city at least. I've never been off this property that I can recall. I don't know my way around, I'd be lost within a day. But you, I assume, do."

"Fair enough." She wouldn't be much of a burden (he could think of far worse punishments, if you could call it that), and there were certainly cities she might enjoy on the way back to his lands. And he did owe her, that was certain.

"Good." With a nod, Natasha stood, close enough to extend her hand out to him. He'd assumed she'd meant to shake on it, as he gently placed his hand in hers, so it came as a surprise when she yanked him to his feet. She must've underestimated the distance; when he caught his balance on his feet, he was standing only inches away from her, painfully aware she still held his hand. The sudden closeness caught his breath, staring down into her eyes as she gazed up at him, unidentifiable emotions flickering through.

Clearing her throat, she hastily stepped away, dropping his hand in the process. "Well, then… We'll leave within the next couple days, injuries allowing." With that, she dismissed the subject entirely, leaving him to go off and do whatever it was that needed doing.

Clint couldn't help but watch Natasha as she went about her barn work, watering the horses, cleaning their stalls, scrubbing buckets. He would've offered to help, but it almost seemed as though she purposely avoided his gaze.

His eyes fell on her slightly swollen cheek, anger flaring up in his chest against his will. He didn't know a thing about her, but all the same, it wasn't right. She didn't deserve this life.

He was all but entranced, watching her graceful, easy movements as she went about her work, stray strands of her hair tucked behind her ears, pieces still falling messily into her face. Her beauty was natural, authentic, unlike the majority of the girls Clint had been around, who'd primped and thrown themselves upon his feet. No, Natasha was different, a higher class altogether, without even trying-

And she was completely uninterested, he had to remind himself. Better to squash that thought before it grew into anything larger.

She was speaking now, to her horse as she fed it, her voice calm and soothing. Silently, Clint approached the stall, leaning on the half wall beside it, unable to keep from admiring her as she sang a quiet melody to her mare, running a brush along her sleek, bay coat.

Any subtlety Clint had in the moment was lost when a second horse's head shot out in front of him, blocking his view and alerting Natasha to his presence. He found himself standing eye to eye with a large, buckskin stallion, the horse's ears flickering and nostrils flaring as he identified his intruder.

"That's Flynn," Natasha supplied, glancing up from her work as Clint held a hand out to the horse. After a few more seconds of sniffing, the stallion reached over his stall door to itch his forehead on Clint's shoulder, sending the man stumbling backwards with the force.

"Easy, big fella," he reached back to scratch at the horse's withers, earning a neck stretch and lip wiggle of enjoyment from Flynn. "He yours?"

"No, Rose is mine," she patted her mare, "Flynn belongs to Ivan."

"Ivan?"

"He… lives here. This is his property." She seemed… hesitant, almost, in saying this, yet it was a relief that she trusted Clint enough to tell him.

"Your father?"

"No!" she all but spat her response, leaving Clint to decide to drop the subject. He'd ask more later, maybe, for now turning his attention back to the stallion.

The sound of approaching footsteps alerted him to someone approaching the barn; apparently, Natasha heard it too, her eyes widening as she darted out of Rose's stall.

"Hide!" she hissed, pushing Clint into Flynn's stall, latching the door shut just as the barn door squeaked open. Luckily, Flynn had better things to do than reveal Clint's hiding space, though he still held his breath tensely.

"Need you in the house, girl," a rough voice drawled, not a hint of kindness to his tone. "Have some business that needs tendin' to."

From his hiding place, Clint heard Natasha let out a pained gasp, peeking up from over the stall wall just long enough to watch a grizzly of a man yank her along behind him from a solid grip in her hair.