The room feels far too small all of a sudden, I can't breathe. I can still hear the air conditioning running under the window, but my body is unexplainably drenched in a sudden sweat. "Nat?" Clint's voice is soft, but has just a hint of irritation beneath it. I know him, gosh I probably know him better than anyone else in the world. And now I know he will weedle and smooth talk, argue and rage until I tell him what I meant about Budapest. Usually that would be fine, but now, in his condition, I just can't let him do all of that.

I sit up and shove the blankets off of myself, although all I want to do is hide. "Fine, yes I know we never worked Budapest together." I spit the words out quickly. Maybe if I am smart enough I can fool him with a lie. "I said today reminded me of Budapest because, as you probably guessed, I had a mission there once. There was a gang called the aliens and I had to fight them, it was me and agent, Agent Hemsworth. The gang had high tech weapons, and we took them down. That's all." I can lie to a thousand people, it's what I do. It's in my job description, in my file I am sure the word Liar is fit snug between the words Assasian and Spy. But I can't lie to him. I try, but he always sees through me.

I don't look at Clint, I feel him sitting up besides me. If I make eye contact he will know I am lying for sure. He grunts as the effort of moving no doubt sounds waves of pain through him. "Nat, that is the biggest pack of BS you have ever told me. I know you, and I know when you are telling the truth, and unlike most everyone else in the world, I know when you are lying. So come on. Spill it Romanoff."

Great. This is so not what I want right now. I press my heated face into my hands, I still can't look at him. As I remember when I went to Budapest, when I think of how I exploited a weakness when I even mentioned it to him, my insides churn sickeningly. "I don't want to talk about it." I tell him this hoping he will roll over and resume sleep. Or resume pretending to sleep. He doesn't.

I jerk away as a cool hand grasps my arm, Clint wraps one of his hands around mine. For a split second I feel invincible, like I could do anything, just because I know he is at my side. The feeling quickly fades. "Tash, come on, can't you just tell me? You know I won't judge you. I won't laugh, I won't get mad, come on. I'm your partner.

We squeeze each others hands so hard, that if we were normal people I am sure a bone would snap. But we aren't normal people. We aren't. I have told Clint almost everything about my past. He knows about every fragmented memory I have of before the Red Room, when I wake up screaming he knows what my nightmares are, he knows that every single time I kill, I feel like I am losing another piece of my humanity. So why haven't I told him about Budapest? Because I am scared? Because love is for children, and a weakness I can not indulge in?

I slide my hand out of his, and move to sit on the end of the bed. Clint moves to do the same, but I push him back. "No, don't aggravate your wounds by moving around. It will only make things worse. Lay down." "Fine Nurse Bossy," he smirks halfheartedly at me as he eases himself back against the headboard of the bed.

Intaking a deep breath, I focus my eyes on a crack in the wall above the TV, and start talking.

"You know that when I was first working for Shield, I wasn't trusted. At all. I know you were only made my partner so that you could keep an eye on me. I mean, that was obvious. And at first, well, I hated you. But you know that. It wasn't until our second or third year together that I started to be ok around you, and you know it was a while after that that I considered you- a friend. "

We are both silent at this statement. My heart is pounding in my fingertips. Silence hangs heavy between us, I have never acknowledged that I consider Clint a friend. We have been through Hell a thousand times together. We have cleaned each other's wounds. We watch movies together, we know everything about each other. I hate that I am so horribly damaged that it has taken me this long to admit he is important to me. I hate that I am so damaged. So broken.

I continue before I lose my nerve. "Well, you remember when we started getting missions apart from each other. How tough it was to convince the council that we should be permanent partners. You know I have had over a hundred solo mission, give or take a few. I haven't told you about every one of them, and you probably haven't told me about all of yours." My nails are digging into my palms, leaving behind little crescent moons in my skin. "Five years ago I was sent to Budapest. It was supposed to be an easy mission, get in, get some information, get out. But- it went wrong. "

I smile thinly at the wall. "That's not so abnormal, missions go wrong. We get faulty information, agents slip up, injuries occur, it happens. But this time it was different. I was sloppy. I cut corners, didn't cover my trail as throughly as I should have. I had stolen the file we needed, I thought I had made my escape. I had gone eight minutes out before realizing I was being followed. I still don't know what information was in the file I took, but it must have been extremely important. There were over twenty guys, all of them determined to pry that file from my hands, or die trying.

Thin trickles of blood stream from where my nails bite into my palms. Red in my ledger. How much of it did I wipe out today? Not enough. Never enough. "I had killed about half of them, when I ran out of bullets. I was shot in my leg, and almost got shot in the head a couple times. I was so tired, I was almost ready to give up. I didn't see how I could escape and I- I thought-" My eyes are burning. My throat is closing. "I thought I was going to die. I was so sure that I was going to die. And do you know what?" I feel a drop fall from my burning eyes down my face. "I thought of you. In my last moments, I was thinking of you. I was so sure a bullet was going to hit me any second, and all I wanted was to see you again.

Intaking a shuddering breathe, I can't look at Barton. I can't. "I was scared Clint, I was so scared that I would die in some god forsaken alley, that I would become an unclaimed corpse in a Budapest morgue. And I was scared that I would lose you if I died. And Clint," I hate every tear running down my face. "The past few days I thought I would lose you again. You were gone. I had failed you. We were supposed to be partners and I let you get kidnapped like a freakin weakling."

I swipe at my eyes with the heels of my palms. "And today, again I was scared. I was so scared. Again I was fighting what seemed like an undefeatable army, one that wouldn't stop coming and attacking. And again, I thought I would lose you. But this time- this time I was ok with it. Because I thought that today if I died, maybe you would too. And we would never have to live without each other."

I am trying to stop the tears, I have not let anyone see me cry since- ever. Not really cry. Not cry because of an emotion instead of because of torture or pain. Even when Clint has woken me from nightmares, I have been in a dry panic. Occasionally screaming, usually I just lock up and shake uncontrollably. He has never seen me cry. He is sitting up again, He looks like he has just been broken and placed back together. Now. Now would be time to tell him that I love him. For him to admit he loves me.

But I don't.

And he doesn't.

Instead he holds out his arms for me, and as I am wrapped in his gentle embrace, I am crying again. Releasing up the emotions of the last few days. Of losing him and having to work with a bunch of idiots who I had never fought with before. Of confronting Loki and having dark parts of my soul bared so casually. Of having to fight Clint, thinking I was going to kill him. Then I cry for the mess that is my life. For the red in my ledger. The childhood I lost. The family I never knew, the families I destroyed with my gun. I cry until I am empty. I feel awful for showing this weakness. But I also feel free.

As my crying slowly ebbs away, I realize that maybe I have just learned a new strength. That maybe I am finally able to be strong, by showing that I am weak.

As he wipes away my tears, I feel more red is being cleansed from my ledger.

As his arms are wrapped around me, I feel that maybe I am finally safe.

And when he kisses me, I think that maybe, just maybe, love is not just for children.

And if it is, then I am a child.

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