So my activity when it comes to updating my pics has been pretty inconsistent, I know. Originally I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue this fic / idea, but when brainstorming with my friend she helped me solidify this idea, and so I think I'm going to finish it. It probably won't be more than 10-15 chapters. Some will definitely be shorter than others, but it'll probably be around 1 chapter every 1-2 weeks.

"Trigger" warnings will probably come at Chapter 4. I don't like to spoil my own fan fictions, but I will respect that some of my fics border on some rather dark or possibly upsetting themes. So I'll just say this fic will likely follow the general trend of my other works, if you're familiar with those.

Feedback is always appreciated and I hope you enjoy this update that's coming like...20 years later.

/

Three words had changed Natasha Romanoff's life, and while she for the longest time believed it was for the best, the aftermath of her best friend's compromise would lead to the hardest fight she would ever be faced with.

Coulson's declaration came out so solemnly, a sharp and cruel gospel,

"Barton's been compromised."

Phil would be the type to do that though, soften the hardest blow that could possibly be delivered to her. And that was why the moment she was able to fight her way out of the inconvenient and unimportant situation, she confirmed,

"But he's alive?"

And with Coulson's confirmation that the worst had yet to happen, she knew what her mission was. She was going to find him, save him, bring him home.

That mission would drive her through every hardship she faced in trying to do so. Joining a rag tag team of physically and mentally messed up individuals was not ideal for her, but she did it to find him. Fighting him on that helicarrier, as he tried so desperately to evict harm upon her, was nearly impossible for her not to pull her punches. But she fought her most dear friend like a lethal enemy, to save him.

Admitting her failures to keep him from harm hurt the most. The night he was taken by Loki, before Natasha followed Fury's orders to get Banner, she made a stop to a little farm in Iowa. Clint's wife deserved to know why her husband wasn't coming home tonight, and she deserved to hear this not from a caller or a letter, but someone in person, someone who cared as much about Clint as she did. And so at 3 in the morning, drenched in rain as she stood on the porch, Natasha told Laura what happened to her husband. Laura nearly collapsed, and as Natasha caught her and held her close for support, the only words Laura could choke out were, "Please Natasha, bring him back to us, bring him home."

/

Weeks later, a SHIELD quinjet landed on the outskirts of the isolated farmhouse in Iowa. Natasha had made sure Clint had spoke with Laura over the phone several times since she was able to get him back from Loki's grasps. But still, the archer seemed as if the prospect of returning home was terrifying. Natasha knew this, as she looked over to the passenger seat to see Clint with his head down, avoiding eye contact, and without the smile he usually had when coming home.

"Come on," she said encouragingly as she lowered the quinjet and landed it fully.

He didn't reply, simply looked down at his scarred hands as he fiddled with the ring on his finger.

Natasha leaned over, placing one of her hands over his as she looked up at his eyes and said,

"Come on, Clint. It's going to be okay, you're going home."

He exhaled slowly, shaking his head as he said almost pitifully,

"I don't want to hurt them."

In all the years Natasha had known Clint, the past week had revealed a side to him she thought she would never see. His jovial smile, down to earth tone, unfaltering optimism seemed to have disappeared entirely. It was understandable of course, he had lost a father in Coulson's passing. And of course the burden wouldn't pass anytime soon, because he blamed himself for it.

For once their roles were reversed, for usually it was Natasha who needed his comfort, his smile, his support. But now it was Natasha who grabbed his hands in her own, as she turned to look right at him.

The pain in his eyes made her stomach tighten, but she wouldn't look away.

"Clint..." she started softly, as she rubbed her thumb over his scarred hands. They both still bore the scars from New York, but Natasha knew his ran deeper.

"You would never hurt anyone you love. Both you and I know this."

He didn't say anything, he simply looked down and evaded her eye contact. He didn't have faith in himself to keep his family from harm, to love them. And this brought a look of defeat over the Avenger's face.

Natasha slowly laid a hand on his cheek, to try and draw him out from whatever burdening thoughts clouded him. He flinched at her touch, but his sad eyes looked up at her anyways.

"I'll stay with you. I'll look after you, all of you," she said.

His eyes looked up at her willingly, with a look of gratitude that Natasha took as progress.

"I will help you get through this. You're not going to be alone in this, I promise."

He nodded, and Natasha thought she saw a glimpse of a smile tug at his lips.

"You're going to be okay," she said softly, pulling him into a hug.

She stood up and held a hand out to him, to bring him back home to reunite with his family.

Natasha would stay back as Clint walked ahead, not wanting to interfere in a moment he needed. She watched as Clint quickly dropped his pack and quiver off his shoulders at the sight of Laura, as he rushes up the porch stairs to embrace her.

Laura cried into his shoulder, as he held her head and kissed her gently. She was sure words were exchanged between the two, but she couldn't hear from where she stood. As Clint held her tight as if afraid to let her go again, Natasha knew he would be fine.

She knew it would take time, and that he would still have nightmares, and that burden of guilt. But she knew he loved too deeply to ever hurt anyone he loved.

As a young Cooper rushed out to leap into his father's arms, and a Lila, who had just turned two, followed her brother out and smiled brightly at the sight of her father, Natasha approached Laura with a smile.

"Thank you," Laura said, still trying to dry her eyes as she watched Clint lower to his knees, as both young children and a golden retriever pup tackled him with love.

Natasha simply leaned onto the porch, as she shook her head and said through a smile,

"There's nothing to thank me for. He's family, after all."

/

Natasha would stay with him for three weeks. He never became a danger to anyone around him, but she worried about how he treated himself. For those nights she would wake up to find him surrounded by several empty bottles, or sitting alone outside at 3 in the morning with only a young dog by his side, worried her.

She may have been sleep deprived those weeks, but when she did have a night where Clint didn't wake up with nightmares or suffer insomnia, she slept easier.

Even when he eventually did return back to combat, it wasn't an easy comeback. He flinched at gunshots, hesitated before making a shot, froze at the sight of dead: whether enemy or ally. In those moments, she would cover for him, have his six. But she knew he, unlike those he worked with, was only human. And was therefore vulnerable to all the diseases, whether of the mind or body, that came with being human.

Eventually he was desensitized and hardened by the realities of their jobs. But while Natasha thought that Clint's struggle with loss, guilt, post traumatic stress, would be the only difficult effect of his compromised state, there were much more dire consequences that would soon follow.