Clint shut the bedroom door, shutting out the sounds of Wanda and Pietro chatting as the latter cooked up dinner. He didn't bother switching on the light, but instead sat down in one of the chairs and pulled out his phone.

Laura picked up before the first ring was through.

"Clint?"

"Hey honey."

"Oh thank goodness. I've been so worried."

"You have?" He'd have called her sooner if he'd known. He'd wanted to call sooner. But he'd also not wanted to alarm her by calling before schedule and there hadn't been a chance in Sokovia anyways, in that bombed out house. There'd been no reception.

"When you didn't call after the Avenger's press conference, I was concerned," she admitted.

"Oh. Yeah. I read about that."

"They did it for you," she said, gently.

"I suppose they did."

"They still care about you, Clint."

He closed his eyes. "Laura, can you just…tell me about the kids?"

"Are you sure you're okay Clint?"

"I'm exhausted. But…" He shrugged. "You know, I think I'm going to be okay. I know things can never go back to the way they were. I guess the truth is that things were never the way they should have been anyways. And I've broke things that I may never be able to repair, and I have to live with that. But, I think…someone has actually shown me how I can start to live with myself again. I'm not saying it's all easy from here. But…it's a start."

"I'm so proud of you."

He smiled. "You shouldn't be. But I love you for that. Now tell me about the kids."

"Of course…actually about the kids…I have some pretty big news."

Instantly, he tensed. "Are they okay?"

"Oh they're thrilled. Well Cooper is. Lila is still trying to adjust."

"Adjust to what?"

"The idea of being a big sister."

He sat up straighter. "Are you…really?"

"Mmm-hmm."

He grinned. "Poor Lila."

"Do you think she'll eat an entire box of cereal the day the baby's born like Cooper did?"

"I don't know. Knowing Lila, she might go off and chop down a tree or something."

Nat opened the door and stepped into Clint's abandoned room in the tower. She moved to the center and looked around. There wasn't much of Clint here. She knew that. Not the real Clint. The Clint you could see at the farm house. There were none of the tools and projects spread around, handmade furniture or the DIY projects he loved so much.

There was a book on the nightstand; the closet door was open to reveal some shirts, pants, and a jacket. A few CDs lay on the dresser stacked next to a player. There was a knife sheath left on the dresser. And that was about it.

She moved over to the bed and sunk down on it, staring around. How had she never realized how empty he had kept this room? Entering it was like entering a safe house, bare and impersonal.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

"Why me?" It'd been a year since he'd recruited her. A year in which she had only just begun to realize how deep her scars ran.

She and Clint were sparring in a SHEILD gym. It was late. The gym was empty except for them. She hadn't been able to sleep. She'd gone down to the gym, expecting to have it to herself and been surprised to see Clint there already, at one of the punching bags. For one instant, before he'd noticed her, she thought she saw in his expression a mirror of her own guilt and doubt, but in the next instant it was gone. She decided she must have imagined it, or more likely have projected her own fears onto him. It wasn't until years later that she would curse herself for not asking, for writing it off, for doubting her own eyes for one of the few times in her life. But then, Clint always would be her blind spot.

She hadn't even thought to ask him what he was doing up so late, too grateful to have someone to spar with. Sparring was better. It took more mental thought than mindlessly punching a bag or running on the treadmill.

And yet, she hadn't been able to shut her thoughts off entirely, and at last the question had come bursting out of her. The question that had plagued her for twelve months.

"Why me? SHIELD has sent you after so many targets. Why did you give me a chance?"

For a moment he didn't respond, dodging her left hook and returning it with a good solid kick. And then he'd stepped back. And they'd both stilled; she waiting for her answer.

"I saw your record. I saw what had been done to you. And I thought…it was hell."

"So you pitied me?" Steal shot through her voice.

"No. But I saw someone who'd never been shown another way. It was tragic but I didn't decide then to go against orders. But then I saw you." He turned his gaze back to her. "I looked in your eyes and I saw your strength. You were smiling. And I thought: someone who can smile after all you've been through, that's a woman with more depth of character than I will ever understand. And that's a woman who can do great things. Who can be great. That is a woman who is so much more than what has been done to her."

She stared at him and then forced out the doubt that had plagued her, that she'd pushed away but that always came back. "Sometimes I wonder if everything you say…is too good to be true."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

Nat shrugged one shoulder. "I know about using people. I've been used and I've used. I know the lies we tell in this life. Sometimes I believe everything you say…and sometimes I wonder if it's all just another game."

There was a flicker in his expression, a flicker of something she couldn't place at the time. Later, years later, she would see that expression again, as he raised a glass in Avengers Tower and said 'Hail Hydra', mockingly, brutally, brokenly.

"You have every reason to doubt me, the world has given you plenty of reason, and you're wise not to trust me," he said quietly. He paused, it was a long, silent pause and when he spoke again, it sounded as if the words were costing him. "Will you do me a favor?"

"What?" she asked. She knew better than to give blanket promises.

"I want to go somewhere with you. Show you something. I'll talk to Fury. We'll clear it. Would you go with me?"

She shrugged. "All right." That was easy enough. If he was planning some kind of betrayal, she could take care of herself. And she wanted to believe in him. Even she knew that. There was a part of her that wanted, so desperately, to believe in everything he said. If there wasn't, this would all be so much easier.

They had left a week later. She thought Clint and Fury had had an argument about it, but she wasn't sure. They took a flight, and then Clint had rented a car and they'd driven out to the country. Farms began to dot the scenery around them, and she'd been surprised when Clint pulled off onto a road that clearly belonged to a small private farm. They'd driven up to a house.

It was so completely the quintessential American farmhouse that Nat would have laughed if she hadn't been so thoroughly confused. She'd asked Clint twice on the way over, where they were headed, but both times he'd said 'wait and see'. She could read from his body language that he was nervous. So she'd prepared herself for anything, for any fight, for any battle, and not asked again.

As he put the car into park, and got out, she'd followed his example, and glanced at him over the car, an unasked question on her face. He nodded towards the house.

"Come on."

She followed, as he mounted the steps to the porch. As Nat stepped onto the porch, the front door of the house opened and a dark haired woman came out. She was pregnant, and she was smiling. Nat noticed at once Clint returning the smile, warm and broad. He kissed the woman lightly. The woman then turned to Nat.

"You must be Natasha." She stepped forward, holding out a hand. "Clint has told me so much about you. I can't tell you how happy I am to meet you at last."

"I…" Nat shook her hand, an automatic reaction more than anything else.

"This is my wife," said Clint. "Laura Barton."

"Oh." Nat blinked. "It's…a pleasure to meet you."

"You too. Lunch is almost ready. I've got something on the stove. I've got to hurry back to it if we don't want the burgers to burn. I'm so glad you're here though." Laura turned to Clint. "I suppose I'm happy to see you too," she teased, and then headed back into the house.

Clint turned to Nat. "Fury set this house up. Some place safe, kept it off SHIELD's records. I like to keep it that way." He stepped forward and looked at her intently. "There's no one else at SHIELD…or anywhere else…that knows about this place..about Laura being here. It's only Fury…and now you."

She stared at him. The weight of what he was saying crashing down on her. "Why…why would you ever trust me with this?" she asked, stunned.

Clint chuckled. "Logically? I haven't a reason in the world. But the truth is Nat that I trust you. I believe in you. And I just bet everything on the fact that I'm right."

From inside the house, Laura had called something to Clint about setting the table. As he and Nat had entered the house together, Nat swore to herself that no matter what: she'd prove him right.

In the present, Nat remembered that visit. She'd felt uncomfortable at first, but Laura had made her feel so welcomed. And no one had ever trusted her the way Clint had by bringing her there. It had awed her. She realized, looking back, that that was the moment, the moment she truly had committed herself to SHIELD and Fury…and to Clint. Most of all to Clint.

Before that, there had always been a piece of her that had held off, that had thought 'I can still run'. But not after that. After that, she hadn't even wanted the option to.

And looking back…she realized something else suddenly. Something that hit her like a ton of bricks and, if she'd been standing, would have sent her staggering.

That had been real. Everything else Clint had said and done, that might have been a lie. But that, bring her to the farm, trusting her with his family, that had been that been real. Completely and utterly. And if that was real…then his faith in her had been real…

Bruce's words floated back to her.

I think at some point you need to find something to believe in beyond one man.

She realized how scared she'd been since the truth of Clint's betrayal had shattered her. How scared she had been that everything that made her world tick had been an illusion. It had been so important that she was fighting for something worth fighting for, that she had found meaning, that she had found a better way.

And she had been terrified that she hadn't. That she had just traded one meaningless, brutal world of blood for another.

Perhaps she did have to let her image of Clint go. But it had served its purpose. It had held her until she was ready to hold herself together. Clint had believed in her until she was ready to believe in herself. Until she was ready to find her own way. And she realized: she had reached that point. As she looked back on herself so many years ago, so lost and confused and wounded, she marveled at where she was now. And lies and betrayal aside, she would always have Clint to thank for that.

Enough. She stood.

It was time to leave the past and move on into the future and whatever it held.

Taking once last look around the room, she shut the closet door, and then left and went up to the common room where she round Thor and Steve debating movie choices. She sat down on the couch and threw herself into the discussion. As they finally settled down to a 1930's musical, it struck her…that she was no longer afraid.