Chapter 11:

Time seemed to run at a different speed while she was on a mission. Being deployed made time fly by, seemingly twice as fast as the rest of the world. Hours seemed to pass as minutes in the rush of adrenaline. In the time that normally would only allow for a training session or a grocery shop at home, it felt as though she was taking out entire battalions of mobsters and criminals, destroying the nefarious plans of entire criminal empires; and all while enjoying the hot rush of the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

This was what she loved. What she lived for.

Before she knew it, a week had passed. Then two. In fact it wasn't until the middle of the third week that she finally stopped and thought long and hard enough to notice that in this entire time, she had not heard a word from Clint or Sofia. She had received no phone calls, texts, emails, webcam requests, or any other kind of acknowledgement from Clint. She received transmissions and updates, plans and all variety of highly encrypted and confidential data from SHIELD; but not once did her phone or computer display any kind of evidence that would lead her to believe that Clint had even noticed she was gone.

She finally cracked and while sitting in her hotel room (which was booked under the pseudonym Anastasia Johansson) picked up her STARKphone and dialed Clint.

With bated breath she waited while it rang.

He picked up after the fourth ring, "Natasha," she said by way of greeting.

"Hi," she said.

There was a silence. She didn't know what to say to him, and he really didn't seem to be out to help her come up with a topic. "How's Sofia?" she finally asked.

"Sofia is being babysat by Tony and Steve. She is doing fine."

Natasha didn't quite know what to say to that, "Good, glad she's…good."

How very eloquent, she thought to herself. This is going just great. "And how have you been?" she asked.

It was the wrong thing to say.

"How have I been? Clint snapped with a short, humorless laugh. "Oh I've been just excellent, thanks! I've been having a really fucking great time for the last two weeks, looking after our daughter while her fucking mother runs around chasing after mobsters! I couldn't have been happier when I left dealing with a very upset Captain America to find my goddamn daughter locked in her room—not with her mother like she was supposed to be—but ALONE and sitting next to a fucking NOTE that told me that, once again, you were off to go save the world and I was supposed to just stay at home alone again!"

"Clint-" She began.

"Shut up!" he snapped, "Don't fucking talk to me right now Natasha! Look I know you've got to go be the fucking Black Widow sometimes! But you just took off and said shit-all to me about it! We are supposed to be your fucking family and it's like you can't even remember that! You'd rather spend time with criminals and SHIELD agents than your own goddamn daughter! Jesus, you'd rather be putting a bullet in some fucker's spine than spend ten goddamn minutes with me! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Natasha was speechless. "I was just trying to-"

"Trying to what Tash? Just trying to do your job?"

"Yes, but-"

"Jesus!" he exclaimed, "When will you fucking get it? When will we be more important than the job?"

Natasha couldn't answer. A few tears ran silently down her cheeks as she fought herself for composure.

Clint had finally fallen silent on the other end, his breath sounding ragged, as though he too was fighting back tears.

"I…I don't know what to say," she began.

"Then don't," Clint said wearily. "Get Fury or Coulson to let us know when you're coming back." Then he hung up.

It took another two and a half weeks to complete the mission. Clint and Natasha spoke occasionally, though it was mostly very brief small talk. The dam holding back everything had finally broken, and it seemed like there was no going back from here. Things were out in the open now, though Natasha was not sure if that would be for better or worse.

When she came home, she found that Clint spent very little time in the apartment anymore. He would usually leave early in the morning, taking Sofia to go visit Bruce, Tony, Steve, or Thor—whoever was awake that early really—just so that he could have an excuse to be away from her. They barely spoke, hardly touched, and Clint had taken to sleeping in Sofia's room. He pretended like it was unintentional, but they both knew better.

Even Sofia had started to behave differently. She no longer seemed to want much to do with Natasha. It was as though seeing the hurt that she'd caused her daddy had made her lose faith in her mother. When Natasha looked into the little girl's eyes she saw the makings of herself in many ways.

It broke her heart. Children should not be so jaded, should not feel so completely let down by the world.

Every day was a new torture. It was like the whole apartment was playing a game of minesweeper, standing on tiptoe, waiting for the explosion that was inevitable.

And when it came, it would shake the whole tower to its very foundations.


Things are not so great in the Barton-Romanov household. :(

R&R sil vous plait!