Natasha Romanov was not a woman easily surprised.

To say that Thor and the mysterious child had surprised her would be an understatement. Time was, she could read Thor like an open book. He was a good man, an even better fighter, and a great friend. But now, when she looked at him, she could read nothing. Somewhere in the past few years, he had become closed to her. She could see the pain lingering still so close to the surface in his eyes, but he'd become hard where he used to be soft, battle-hardened and world-weary where he used to be so open and carefree. The absence of his hammer was startling, even more so the blatant power he wielded literally at his fingertips. She hadn't missed the crack in the air when Clint had advanced on the pair, nor the lingering flash of electricity between his fingers as they twitched in place. The deadly look in his eye was not one she was soon to forget, either.

But the girl. The girl was like a punch in the gut.

Since when did he have a daughter? And why hadn't he told them? She was obviously his. Natasha couldn't see him willingly subjecting himself to being a glorified napping pad for someone else's child. Unless...

The kid could be Tony's. The two men were very close. The idea had merit. And seeing as the girl hadn't been visible from any vantage point as of yet, Natasha couldn't draw any conclusions. But watching the pair of them run to the child's side when they heard news of her waking was sign enough that she was very important.

Natasha hated it when she missed something. She hated it even more when the people around her were too obtuse to see that the men they had thought they'd known were not at all what they seemed.

Tony had obviously given Thor the low-down on what had happened while the god had been doing who-only-knew-what, and Thor was deeply unhappy about it. Not that Natasha could blame him. They'd all acted recklessly, with little care for what anyone else was feeling.

She'd been remiss when she'd taken sides in the first place, but she regretted helping Steve. She could see the power of the Accords, could see what they could one day be if they all simply went along to get along and then came back to amend them, shape them into something they could live with. But Steve had taken matters into his own hands and shaped everything so it was all twisted and skewed. Not that Tony's hotheaded nature had helped matters.

Natasha simply hadn't wanted to lose any of her friends – her family – to a system she knew would swallow them whole and they'd be lost. She couldn't allow Tony or Steve to fall to that.

If only she'd been aware of all the pieces before the whole thing in Berlin.

If only she'd known about Bucky's involvement in the Starks' deaths. That was a game changer, even for her. For Tony? It was an open betrayal. She couldn't fault him for hating them, for wanting nothing to do with them. If the tables were turned, she's sure she would feel the same way. Hell, anyone would.

But Steve was hurting, too, and Natasha felt for that. To lose a best friend and then get him back, only to learn this horrible secret? It must have been torture to keep that from Tony, to keep that from all of them.

They all could have behaved so differently.

Things could have turned out so differently.

But maybe they had to pan out this way, maybe they were all meant to go their separate ways, hell maybe she even wanted to.

Just a little bit.

All her thoughts were dashed when she swallowed her last bite of hash browns and heard the elevator doors swish open. And out stepped the three people of their heated discussion.

She hadn't been paying much attention to the words being thrown around her, hadn't really cared what they had to say. She knew what she needed to do and how she needed to do it. It all depended on how Tony responded to it.

She stood with the fluid grace of a dancer, something she'd been so long ago, and she moved to stand in front of the odd trio.

She spoke before anyone could restart the bickering and get the ball of anger rolling once more. "Tony, I'm sorry for the role I played. I never meant to betray your trust, and if I'm being honest, I wish I hadn't. If I could take it back, I would. I understand what you were trying to accomplish, what you have accomplished, with the Accords, and I'm sorry I didn't stand by you the first time. It was a mistake, one I've regretted since I made it," she said, her voice steady and clear as she looked him in the eye.

She registered mild surprise on his face, and then a small smile as he regarded her with a warmth she wasn't sure she'd ever see directed her way again.

"Thanks, Nat," he murmured, nodding to her.

She quirked a small smile at him in return and turned her attention to the other two.

Now that Natasha could see the girl, she saw the resemblance to Thor clear as day. "She's adorable, Thor, and I'm sorry for your loss." She'd heard about Jane's passing not long after it had happened – she liked to keep tabs on the people that had once been close to hers. It was a habit she hadn't been willing to break. She kicked herself, however, for not knowing about the child. How that had slipped past her radar was beyond her, but she would find out.

It didn't occur to her that the child could be anyone else's but Jane's, and that gave her momentary pause. She didn't know that for sure. And it was dangerous to make assumptions.

Like Tony, Thor simply inclined his head, not jostling his armful in the slightest. He'd had a lot of practice, it would seem. And the girl didn't seem inclined in the least to investigate these strange people, Natasha noted, keeping her face firmly in her father's neck, her entire body tense in his embrace, and her hands fisted tightly in his blue t-shirt.

"What's her name?" Natasha asked.

"This is Penny," Tony answered, looking back at the little girl. He saw the small tremors wracking her frame and took off his suit jacket without hesitation, passing it to Thor, who in turn wrapped it around his young charge.

The trembling didn't stop, but it seemed to soothe the girl slightly, her body minutely relaxing against the god's expansive chest.

"Hi, Penny, it's nice to meet you. My name is Natasha," the spy said, her voice light and warm, har posture open and relaxed. She made sure to project calm and obvious intent when she took a step closer, but stopped immediately when Penny tensed and pushed herself impossibly closer to Thor, who in turn growled slightly at Natasha.

Surprised, Natasha turned her attention back to the big man, who was glaring at her with something akin to distaste and distrust on his features. She'd never expected him to look at her like that, to see her as something other than a friend, and she took a rapid step back.

"Hey!" Clint growled, coming up close behind her. She could feel the heat of his anger at her elbow and was somewhat reassured, but she knew without a doubt that Thor could wipe them all out without hesitation.

This was not the Thor they'd come to know.

"She just wants to meet the kid, man," Clint said, his voice betraying his disbelief at Thor's behavior.

But then Natasha looked at the little girl, saw that she had curled in on herself, and she felt guilt well up inside her. She heard Clint take a breath behind her, knew he was about to say something stupid, and threw her elbow back into his ribs. It was a glancing blow, one without any power behind it, but it served its purpose. He shut his mouth.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes trained on Thor's protective stance. It was like the god had curled around his small charge, but made his presence all the larger, made himself big for her sake, so she could become small. "I didn't mean to frighten her."

Clint scoffed behind her and she whirled on him in a fury, her red hair flying about her shoulders. "Don't you pull that huffy shit, Clint. She's terrified, can't you see that? He's protecting her. Think of your own kids, you idiot. I've seen you do a lot worse than growl at someone when they scare your child. Think!" she growled at him, her whole body vibrating with tension.

She watched as her three companions actually looked at the quivering mass Thor was trying to soothe. And they saw what Natasha had seen: a girl terrified of strangers, seeking solace in her father's embrace, hiding from the unknowns at her back and burrowing into the familiar warmth of the god.

Natasha looked at Clint, Steve, and Wanda in turn as they all took in the defensive posture of Thor, and that of Tony, as he stepped slightly in front of Thor and obscured Penny from their view.

They were protecting her.

From them.

"I'm so sorry, Tony," Steve whispered, his gaze, too, focused on the little girl. In her he saw all his mistakes, all his faults. He saw the man he never thought he'd be, the man that he had inadvertently turned into. He saw the man he hated to look at in the mirror in the morning, the man that had caused so much pain. "I'm so sorry."

Clint took the apology in stride, also taking in the protective gestures of the two men. He could see the tension in Thor's body, could practically feel his want to leave them, but he could also see that the god didn't trust them alone with Tony. And why should he? He wondered to himself, why should Thor trust them when he'd seen evidence stacked against them at every turn. "You've only heard his side, man," Clint tried, glaring slightly at Tony when the billionaire stiffened at the words. But it had to be said. He'd been locked in a floating tin can with no foreseeable way out. He had a right to speak his mind, dammit.

"You've heard the woe is me tale from Stark over there. Want to hear the other side? Or are you so embroiled in Stark's shit that you can't even realize that he distorts everything?" Clint asked, his voice hard and unforgiving. He had to see how far Thor would go for Tony, see how far their friendship held. Because if Thor could trust Tony, maybe they could, too. Thor always had a good feel for people, seemed to have an innate ability to determine who was worthy of his trust.

If Thor found Tony worthy, Clint would too.

If they'd thought Thor had growled before, they were mistaken. The god was shaking with his fury, a low, menacing rumble sounding even as he gently dislodged his passenger and handed the clinging child over to Tony without so much as a word. Penny went without protest and tucked herself against Tony's chest much as she had her father's, seeming to understand that this was what was needed from her. And Tony took her without a word, his brows furrowed as he watched the god, but otherwise he held Penny close and watched the events unfolding in silence.

Clint froze as the god advanced on him, his entire body telling him to flee, warning him of the impending danger, but he couldn't get his body to move.

Natasha wisely slipped from between the two, standing closer to Tony and Penny as she moved, silently picking a side should this come to blows. She'd chosen wrong once, she would not do it again.

Thor's eyes had come alight, the irises glowing blue, bright arcs of electricity dancing across his body and his fists clenching so tight Clint could see the whites of his knuckles.

"You would do well to watch your tone, human," Thor said, his deep voice rumbling through the small space, sending the hairs on the back of Clint's neck up on end.

The god easily stood a good half foot over Clint, and he used every inch to his advantage. He crowded close, the heat from his electrified body singing Hawkeye, but he dared not move for fear of enticing Thor's razor's edge anger.

But the god didn't lay a finger on him. He simply canted his head to the side, regarding him for a moment. "You are wise to be afraid of me, but I doubt you can truly grasp why. I have heard the truth from Stark's lips, you know it is nigh on impossible to fool me, especially you mortals. Your bodies betray you at every turn, and yet you still question me. Do you doubt I would have looked for you, sought you out, helped you, had I thought Tony had done wrong by you? Do you think I would have allowed your fugitive status to stand if I did not believe it the truth?

"Do none of you have honor? Have the strength of your convictions?" His voice lowered to a growl at the last, his eyes squinted in distaste. "You. Are. Weak."

The words were spoken, but Clint felt them each like a blow, and he staggered back, unable to hold up against Thor's brutal honesty.

They were all silent as the words seemed to sink in for the first time.

Thor was right. They were weak. They'd fought like children on the playground instead of acting like the adults they were, blaming Tony for something that wasn't even his fault, and blowing everything out of proportion.

He finally saw the error that they had all made. He saw what Natasha had seen, what had made her so quiet and withdrawn. It was their own failing that had led to this. To everything.

He heard the twin gasps behind him and knew that Wanda and Steve had seen it too.

This whole mess could have been avoided. Could have been stopped before it even began. If they'd all had the sense to talk to each other. If they'd believed in their own convictions, had the honor to do what they knew was right, the right way. But they'd fought tooth and nail, because that's what they'd come to know. It's what they'd come to expect.

War and violence.

Bloodshed.

They had found a home, a calling, in all that chaos and they had thrived in it. When a single obstacle had come their way in the form of governance of their own actions, they had rebelled. As any battle-ready creature would do.

And they had mucked it up.

Epically.

"Thank you," Clint said, his voice thin and strained as he looked up into Thor's stern face. It had taken too much time, too much effort, and the presence of an irate god to get through to them. If that's what it took now, what hope did they have for a future? But for now, Clint just wanted the duo before him to understand that they finally got it. It had finally clicked into place for them, and they were sorry. He tried to voice that with those two words, meeting Thor's still glowing eyes straight on, accepting the man's silent condemnation.

If he expected said visage to soften even slightly, he would have been disappointed. But Stark surprised him. "You see it, now?"

Their silence urged him on.

"You see why we couldn't just ignore them? We have to have rules, Rogers, we have to have some semblance of governance. We are not rogues, we are not meant to be vigilantes fighting for glory or any other bullshit. We were Avengers. Earth's Mightiest Heroes. We were meant to be the good guys. But all this just brought out the fact that we aren't mighty anything. We're human and we make mistakes. The world just wanted to make sure our mistakes could be managed. That our work could still be done, but with some level of responsibility."

Tony paused, looking at each of them. "Do you realize how much money I put out for the Avengers Initiative? How much out of pocket costs I fronted because I believed that we could actually be something great? That we could accomplish things that no one else could because we had the means and the opportunity to do it?

"And every mess we made, every building or park we ruined? Do you think that people just sat down and took that? Waved it off like it happened all the time?" he scoffed. "I paid for rebuilding efforts. For clean-up crews. All of it. Because it mattered that people could look at us and see good guys. Heroes. The people that stood up for the little guy. It. Mattered."

Tony stopped, shook his head. He looked down at Penny and let out another world-weary sigh. "I don't know what you all want to do, exactly, but I can't be an Avenger again. I won't do it. I can't be part of this team again."

He paused to let them absorb that, not hesitating to hand back his bundle when Thor – no longer lit up and vibrating with righteous anger – reached for her. Tony retook his position in front of the pair and continued, "But I understand mistakes. I can forgive that. You guys are welcome to crash here for the night, but you can't stay. We've got plenty of space at the Compound, and you can stay there as long as you like, but I'm done."

With that, he cast one last look at them, nodded once, and turned on his heel. He didn't wait for Thor to follow. His friend was already at his heels. He turned once inside the elevator and cast one last look at the people he's once trusted beyond measure. And he didn't feel grief or regret, he felt hope. Because now, for the first time, he felt he could move on and not be dragged back into the mess that was his past. He was moving forward, and he had people with him he knew he could count on.

Tony sucked in a relaxing breath and allowed his heart to lead his decisions for once, letting it take over from his overactive brain for a change. And his heart was telling him he was doing the right thing, for the right thing, with the right people.

Not that his brain was arguing. And when Tony Stark's brain agreed, it was damn well never wrong.