The moonlight on his bare skin paints his scars in shades of silver, each of them a reminder of the kind of life they lead and its dangers. There's a new one, recently added to the collection, tiny though it is, barely noticeable if you don't know where to look. Natasha knows, she knows that this particular scar is the reason she and Clint haven't gone much beyond kissing in the days since he got it, and even that has been a rarity. He is afraid of this scar and of what it might mean because it was left by the man who turned him against her.
Tracing her fingers gently over the mark, she tries not to notice the way he shivers, shoulders tightening, body shifting in his unease. She hears him swallow, feels his heart pick up pace within his chest and she moves to reassure him, wrapping her arms and legs around him where they lie among the nest of covers. She doesn't want his fear but that doesn't mean that she doesn't understand where it comes from.
"It's still in me Tasha," he whispers, trembling in her arms. His voice isn't his own any more, it's empty, dark, and she can hear the echoes inside. "How do I move on from this when I don't know if he's coming back."
Silently, inwardly, Natasha curses Loki for the damage he has done. She hates him for the fissures that she sees in Clint's memory and the doubts he has placed in his mind. Outwardly, she says nothing, just holds him to her, her equal, her partner, lover and friend. When he buries his face in her shoulder and tightens his hold on her, hiding the tears that she is sure are threatening to spill, she gives him the illusion of privacy but she stays. Until he tells her to leave, she will be right at his side.
"I know you're afraid," she tells him softly, "but I'm not. I look into your eyes and I only see you, he isn't there Clint." She isn't sure whether she is saying the right thing until she feels some of the tension ease out of him.
"I'm so tired," he admits, pulling back to look at her. She knows that he hasn't been sleeping well since the events in New York and now she sees the truth that she has been blind to in the weeks that have passed since. She recognises that he isn't pulling away from her, from them, but that he is trying to protect her in the event that the situation isn't over. She moves on instinct, easing him over onto his side so that he faces away from her, stretching out her body behind his own and spooning him. She doesn't smile, doesn't make light of his exhaustion or the strength he has shown to make it this far, just wraps one arm around his waist.
"Then sleep," she tells him, planting a gentle kiss against the back of his shoulder. He doesn't argue, doesn't fight, just turns his head and looks at her in a way that makes her feel dizzy. He appreciates the patience she is showing him, he really does. She isn't patient by nature but for him she will wait, some things are worth waiting for and if he needs to be sure before he resumes their relationship, well, she will give him all the time he needs.
She holds him until he sleeps, and then continues holding him, providing him safety in the circle of her arms. He whispers her name as he shifts against her, such need and affection in the word that she knows she is right to wait. Her boy, her love, is still in there and with every day he's gets a little closer to being himself again. Natasha stays awake for the rest of the night, watching over him while he heals.