Clint sat in the car, staring at the front door of his house. Shame was eating through him. Shame and disgust. He'd carried it for years now, but had always kept it shoved in a corner. Now it was running rampant through his head.

He wasn't sure what was worse: telling Nat or telling Laura. How could he tell her? How could he admit he'd been lying all this time? He'd lose her. He had to after he told her. She couldn't forgive him. She shouldn't forgive him. He didn't deserve forgiveness. He hadn't deserved what Nat had given him in letting him go.

His brain felt stretched and frayed, and he leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. He hadn't slept since he'd gotten Natasha's message. He could still feel the shock from that moment. He had felt his life falling apart, the ground slipping from under him.

Deep down he'd always known that there had to be an end somewhere to the double life and the lies. But somehow, in recent years, he'd thought that end would be a bullet in the back of the head from Hydra. Somewhere, in a safety deposit box, were video messages to Laura and Natasha, trying to explain, only to be viewed on the event of his death. He hadn't thought he'd be alive for this. He hadn't wanted to be.

He dug his nails into the leather of the steering wheel.

The only silver lining was that with Hydra gone, Laura and the children were finally safe. Their location had been secure, or at least as secure as it could be given Hydra's reach, but Hydra had known, and that fear had always been an ever present factor in his life.

Nineteen years old. He'd been so lost and confused. Rudderless. He'd looked down into an abyss and seen his life heading down there, and it had scared him in a way nothing else ever had in his entire life, nothing until he'd gotten Nat's message that was. And back then he'd been offered a chance. A chance to make a difference. A chance to make the world a better place. A chance to believe in something, and have people who believed in him. At least that's what he'd thought.

It'd been a slow, torturous realization that all of that was a pack of lies.

By the time he had seen the truth…it had been too late. Or he had thought it was. Hydra had become the monster in the dark inside his head. It had seemed all encompassing. All powerful. And unescapable. All the things he had been frightened of at nineteen had taken shape and become the very thing that had offered him an escape from those nightmares.

And since he was nineteen he had heard of the reach of Hydra, he had heard of their power, he had seen it in action. And there were somethings he hadn't been willing to risk, even in the reclamation of his own soul.

He leaned back again in his seat and looked at the house again. He loved that house. He loved the people inside it. And he'd let them down. Just like he'd let down Nat. Fury. The Avengers. There were somethings that couldn't be fixed. Some breaks that caused too many fractures no matter how desperate you were to repair it.

There was movement behind the curtains.

Laura was awake.

It was time. Time to shatter the last bit of his life.

Reluctantly, he got out of the car and closed the door. He didn't bother to get his things. He expected to be back in the car shortly. Laura would never be able to forgive him. He wasn't sure where he'd go. But he could worry about that after…after he'd lost the last things that were still dear to him.

He crossed the yard, ascended the stairs, and for one moment stood at the door, and put off the inevitable for just a little longer, taking in the moment, trying to capture it forever, and then with a deep breath, he entered.

Laura was in the living room putting away a stack of books. She turned at the sound of the door, let out his name in delight, dropped the books on the coffee table and rushed towards him. Her arms wrapped around his neck.

He held on for dear life, burying his face in her hair, taking in the scent of her perfume, the feel of her in his arms.

She sensed the desperation in his hold, knew this wasn't a normal embrace. He felt her still for a moment in concern and then hold onto him tighter, wanting to give him her strength, her love, her comfort. He hadn't thought he could hurt anymore. But her selfless trust in him made his heart splinter further.

They stood in the hall like that for several minutes. He knew Laura would give him all the time he needed. But he also was acutely aware of Cooper and Lila sleeping upstairs. He had to tell Laura before they woke. Briefly he wondered if she'd let him say goodbye to them. What would she tell them later? How would she explain? How could he ever have forced her in a position like this?

He pulled away and she looked up into his face, holding her hand to his cheek. She didn't say anything. Not wanting to push him, wanting to give him space if that was what he needed, willing to do what it took to give him her peace.

"I need to talk to you," he said, gruffly, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "There's something I…there's something you need to know."

She led him to the couch, and sat down beside him. He gripped her hand, wanting strength, knowing that at some point she was going to pull away, and that would be the moment he knew he'd lost her for good.

And he began to talk.

Natasha upped the speed of the treadmill. Sweat crawled down her back, tendrils of hair slipped from her ponytail. She kept running, speed pushing out unwanted thoughts.

She heard the sound of the gym door sliding open and ignored it. She heard footsteps, someone clearing his throat, and then Bruce coming up along the side of her.

"Hey."

She ignored him.

"I'm just coming to check on you."

"I'm fine." She hit the speed up button again.

"Right." He didn't move.

"I said I was fine," she snapped.

"You know, it's okay to be angry. Believe me: I of all people have learned that the hard way."

"Bruce, I don't want to talk, okay?"

"You might not want to, but sometimes you have to."

She rolled her eyes. "I thought you weren't 'that kind of doctor'?"

He smiled. "No. But I am your friend. And I want to help you."

"I appreciate it, but I really don't need it."

Bruce moved, coming round to the front of the treadmill. He smiled wryly. "You do at least get the irony of what you're doing, right?"

She frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"You are literally trying to run away from a problem you can't run away from, on a treadmill, which involves a lot running and not getting anywhere."

She slammed the off switch. "What is there to talk about? Clint did what he did, I did what I did. It's over. Talking about it doesn't change anything. It's just the business. It's over. It's done."

"Nat."

She took a deep breath. "I can't Bruce. Okay? I just can't."

He nodded. "All right. But know that I am here when you need me. Because if there is one thing I've learned, running away from the problem never helps."

As he left the room, and she turned the treadmill back on.

Laura hadn't pulled her hand away. She hadn't said anything as he'd spoken, and he'd told her all of it. Not just the bare facts. He'd told her what Hydra was, all of it, the things he'd done for them, the lives he'd taken, the atrocities he was directly and indirectly responsible for. The betrayals he'd committed. She had gone quite still, her hand was cold in his, but she'd not pulled away.

He hadn't been able to keep looking at a few minutes in. He was staring down at the floor, where Cooper had left a toy car at the foot of the coffee table. The silence was deafening.

"Why didn't you tell me?" said Laura at last, her voice gentle but the hurt evident.

It was what Nat had said. It nearly broke him.

"I…" He didn't want to say it. But he had to. She deserved the truth. "Was ashamed. And I didn't want to lose you."

"Clint." She leaned forward and wrapped her arm around his neck, kissing him on the check. "I love you. And I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"You should."

"I know who you are deep down. The mistakes you made, doesn't change that."

He struggled for a moment and then whispered. "What about the kids? We have to tell them. They'll find out."

"They love you too."

"They were proud of me." They thought I was hero.

"They still will be. You still saved New York. You still stopped the invasion. And they'll understand that you love them. They'll be confused. But we can explain it to them. We'll do this together."

There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Clint stood up abruptly, turning to the fireplace, to wipe his eyes before Lila bounded into the room.

"Mama I'm- Daddy!"

He forced a smile and turned, crouching down to meet her as she threw herself across the rooms and into his arms.

Cooper soon followed his sister, but Laura expertly drove both children into the kitchen, before kissing Clint.

"Go to bed," she said. "We can talk to the kids later."

"I'm not sure I can sleep."

"Really? Because you look dead on your feet. Go."

Obediently, he headed upstairs and to their bedroom. He couldn't believe he wasn't heading out the door, or at best fighting to save his marriage.

Laura was sticking by him. Laura loved him despite everything. He never felt less deserving.

He stripped off his Hawkeye suit and tossed it in a corner. He supposed he wouldn't be needing that again. He tried not think about it. Instead he changed into some jeans and a t-shirt, and lay down on the bed, not bothering to get under the blankets. He didn't expect to sleep. There was too much rattling around in his head.

But his body had other plans. It was exhausted, running on close to seventy hours of no sleep and emotional strain.

His head had barely hit the pillow before he'd drifted off, and mercifully, didn't dream.