Natasha and Clint were the first to leave the Shwarma Palace. Outside in the street a black SUV was waiting for them. Natasha's shoulders tensed. SHIELD wouldn't even give him one night to come down from this? A tinted window lowered. Fury's face said it all. Clint went quietly and Natasha followed.

"You don't have to." His protest was weak.

"I'm coming." was her answer.

They road in silence. Natasha hated Fury in that moment. She hated more that Clint was so resigned. The only consolation, if it even qualified, was that Nick at least gave him the dignity of taking him into custody himself. SHIELD could have easily aprehended him with a team and sealed in his mind that he deserved punishment.

The SUV rendezvoused with a quinn jet who delivered them to the helicarrier. Although uncuffed Clint was treated like a criminal. He made eye contact with no one, unwilling to see what he already knew.

They let him sleep that night, though he barely did. Interrogations began the next morning. Then there were physical assessments and brain scans, polys, observation, and more interrogation. The meetings with the SHIELD counselor were the worst. It made Clint want to crawl out of his skin and vanish completely. Each night he tried to sleep, but couldn't. Natasha stayed close by him through the whole process just as he had done for her all those years ago. She ate meals with him in his cell. It was a cell no matter what Fury said. They mostly didn't talk. Being with her was his only respite and she was determined to let him feel safe and relaxed when they were together.

He wasn't permitted to contact his family. Laura had been sent a standard text message she'd seen countless times. Agent Barton was being debriefed and the classified nature of his mission prohibited him from contacting her yet.

Natasha called her and Laura listened as she watched the sun fading into the trees from her porch. The kids' muffled voices drifted through the screen door out into the summer night. Her husband had been through hell and he might not be the same when she saw him again. She was so grateful that Natasha was with him. This was unlike anything else. She knew he wouldn't trust himself again for a long time and it broke her heart.

Over a week later they let him go. Mandatory leave. Assessment: not a threat. Natasha took him home.

Laura was so relieved to see her husband looking like himself, his haggardness not withstanding. No amount of shame could keep the smile from his face when he saw her and the kids though. Clint scooped both of his children into his arms and hugged them like it had been years. They hugged Natasha, then quickly rushed into the house, pulling her by the hand. At the bottom of the porch steps Clint and Laura held each other in a long embrace. Tears escaped her eyes.

"You're home." was all she felt the need to say.

He breathed in deeply and let himself feel her heart beating against him.

That evening Natasha took the kids into town for a movie and promised to get them into bed afterwards. Laura and Clint sat in the dark, leaning against the headboard. The late summer low light filled their room and Clint, still terrified of himself, clung to his wife. He knew he would have to talk to her and let her in, but for the time being he was grateful to just be in her arms. He knew Natasha had told her everything that had happened, that he'd done. The truth, that he'd been controlled against his will, was useless to him. It couldn't take away his crushing shame. In the dusk he let himself pretend for the moment that he didn't have to feel ashamed with her.

Headlights eventually moved across the wall and the screen door slammed downstairs. Laura's fingers brushed slowly through Clint's hair as they watched the shadows move under the door. The cheerful voices of their children getting ready for bed was comforting. They listened to Natasha's voice, sinks going on and off, doors creaking and laughter. Soon things were quiet and the only sound was Natasha's low voice wishing the kids sweet dreams. Laura's calm gaze took in the line of light below the bedroom door. When she heard Natasha's footsteps recede down the stairs, she noticed that Clint's breathing had evened out.

He was finally asleep.