Natasha loves New York. She grew up there and no other place would ever feel like home. But after Steve enlisted, the city became a little less bright. Clint and Bobbi were both worried about her. She didn't seem like the girl they knew all these years. It was like a piece of her died after the fight. The week he left, she threw all of herself into her schoolwork. After three weeks of not seeing her; Clint decided it was time for an intervention.
"Nat, open this door. I know you're in there."
From the other side her voice was muffled, but he could hear the anger.
"Go away, Barton. I'm studying."
"No, you're avoiding the problem. Open the door and talk to me."
"I'm not going to tell you again," came the second terse reply.
"And I wasn't asking, if you don't open this door right now…"
"You'll what? Kick it down? Go ahead."
Clint always had more guts than brains, because that's what he did.
"What the Hell, Barton?! You kicked my door down?"
"I warned you. Now can we talk about this?"
"There's nothing to say. Steve left me, so I'm re-dedicating myself to my schoolwork. Now that he's gone, I don't have any more distractions. Except for you."
"That's complete and utter bullshit, Natasha. Steve was anything but a distraction. And before you jump all over me for defending him, I'm not. I'm on your side; he should have discussed enlisting with you before he did it."
"Then we're in agreement. So what's the point? Why are you really here?"
"I'm here because what you're doing to yourself isn't healthy. You don't sleep, and I when I do see you, you barely eat. I know you love him, and I know he loves you. So you either need to forgive him, or you need to get out there, and find someone new."
Natasha's anger softens a little when Clint calls her out point blank. Other than Steve, he's the only guy to ever do so.
"You're absolutely right. I do need to find someone new. I have an idea, why don't you set me up with Barney?"
"No. I have a lot of friends I can set you up with. But you're my best friend, there's not a chance in hell that I would set you up with my brother."
"Of course you're not going to set me up with Barney! Your brother is almost ten years older than me. Did you really think I was serious about that?"
"Okay, you're still angry, I get it. But it's been three weeks since you've been outside of this apartment that you shared with him. I'm not saying you should forget about everything you two had together. I'm just saying that you need to get out and do something constructive to take your mind off of him."
"And what, you want me to do that for you and Bobbi?"
"No, I want you to do it for yourself."
As Clint leaves the apartment, she breaks down. She knows her best friends are right. She's been hiding herself away because of the pain. A few days after the intervention, she cleaned herself up, and got back into the world. Thanks to Professor Coulson she got an internship with an architecture and interior design firm close to campus. As luck would have it she met someone new while working there. His name was Alexei. Like her, his great-grandparents were Russian immigrants who came to the U.S. looking for opportunity. They dated for six months and after she graduated from college, he proposed to her. Nat was surprised when he popped the question. She should have been happy. There was one underlying problem through it all. Even though she cared for him, he didn't make her feel the way she thought she was supposed to. For her, it was simple, Alexei wasn't Steve. Four years later, she was living in a brownstone apartment complex in Brooklyn. She was teaching art history to students about to enter college, and running an Art Consultation business with Carol Danvers, a coworker she met during her time as an intern. Every two months she would receive letters from overseas. Some came from Italy, others from Egypt, and then finally Iraq. Nat knew they were from Steve. As much as she missed him, she couldn't bring herself to open them. Instead she filed them away in a shoebox at the back of her closet. They came consistently the whole time he was away. Then last year, the letters stopped arriving. For the first time since their fight, she was actually afraid she had lost him.
