Clint felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest; he knew coming back, showing Natasha the truth, wouldn't be easy for either of them. Natasha had always been obstinate and stubborn and a force of nature that few dared to reckon with, it was one of the many reasons he's fallen in love with her in the first place. And yet, now, it was standing between him explaining himself to her.
Clint had been gone for almost five years, not just gone though, dead. He'd been on a mission in Afghanistan, a real messy one that, if left to fail, would've set off a powder keg in the middle east the no one, not even the United States, was prepared to handle at the time. He'd gone through every possible scenario, run every simulation imaginable, but the only way to salvage that colossal SNAFU was for Clint Barton to die.
If he could just get the chance to explain everything to Natasha, she'd understand. He knew she would. After all, if anyone understood what it meant to make the hard call, it was Natasha Romanoff.
"Clint…" Fury started, saying anything to silence but Clint waved him off.
"We knew this was going to be difficult, Fury. The both of us, we lied to her. We destroyed everything we had built with her, Nick, don't you get that? It took us to long to convince her we were worthy of her trust and we let her down in the most phenomenal way possible. The one person I never wanted to hurt, even when I didn't know her, and I hurt her the most. We knew this wasn't an easy fix, or even if it's fixable at all." He stepped forward and picked Natasha's necklace up off the ground.
He remembered when he'd given it to her. She'd gotten badly injured on a mission and had to spend a few weeks in the ICU as a result of it, and months in recovery following her release from the medical wing at SHIELD. When she was first sent back into the field it was a solo op. She was nervous about it, not that she'd ever say anything or let it show, but somehow he just knew she was.
"I'm just a call away, Nat." He'd told her as he pressed the small arrowhead into the palm of her hand. "Always."
Natasha may hate Clint for faking his death, but Clint hated himself more for it. His self-loathing only deepened when he saw Natasha's engagement ring on the chain too. It wasn't anything big or flashy, he knew Natasha wasn't that kind of woman. It was simple, and unique. Just a small, uncut diamond on a gold band. There was something about it that seemed so emblematic of Natasha herself, rough and raw, but beautiful nonetheless, and made of tough stuff for sure.
When he'd asked her to marry him it wasn't anything grandiose or romantic even, they'd been lying on the couch nestled together after coming home from a hard night. She'd patched him up in his kitchen and they were trying to unwind by watching some non-memorable B-rated movie on Netflix. As the movie ended and silence settled in the room again, he knew that with Natasha was where he wanted to be for the rest of his life. It wasn't anything magical, just that having her in his arms felt so goddamn right and he would do anything to never let go.
She had been a little confused when Clint had rather abruptly moved to get up, almost dumping Natasha off the couch in the process. When he returned with the ring he'd bought some months before she was speechless, a rare moment for both of them.
Natasha didn't say yes right away, and it was more than a little disheartening for Clint when she simply answered "I don't know, I'm sorry." But he knew Natasha, he knew that that response wasn't at all outside the realm of possibilities. It wasn't until almost six weeks later, that with bullets flying past their heads, and the familiar adrenaline rush of an operation was coursing through their veins that she'd said yes.
He could've died right then and there, and might have it it weren't for Natasha, and he would've been content.
Two months later Clint was dead, at least, to Natasha he was.
Clint knew he wasn't welcome with her but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving her again either. He assured Fury he was fine, at least relatively speaking, and eventually he'd left to go back to his work. Clint however, simply went back and sat in his car, parked about half a block down from Natasha's house. Though when he saw the door open and her leave, his heart caught in his chest, he wanted to desperately to follow her, but didn't. He simply sat there, waiting. For what? He kept asking myself, but even he wasn't sure.
He was more than a little surprised when Natasha left, to see her in a US Air Force uniform. Fury hadn't told him much at all about what she'd been up to, only that she'd left SHIELD all together. He never once imagined he'd find her in service to the US military. Then again, almost everything about this situation he'd ever imagined before.
Natasha thought she was going to throw up. He head was spinning, she felt as if she had been on the wrong end of one hell of a beating, and all because Clint had magically popped back onto her doorstep after almost five years of being 'dead'.
She didn't even bother with asking questions of 'how?' SHIELD had more than enough resources to fake someone's death, she wasn't even really hung up on the 'why?' of the matter. More than anything, she was angry.
After all she'd done at SHIELD, after all her work to prove to them all that she was worth the risk, worth the trouble, after all she'd given to them, for them, the sacrifices she'd made in their name, they still didn't think she was worth anything. They didn't even think she deserved to know the truth about her partner, a man whose life she'd saved more times than she could count, who'd given years of her life working by his side. She'd loved him and even fought for the right to live him, and they'd still lied, the both of them. Clint had left her alone and heartbroken, uprooted her life, turned her whole world upside down, and for what? Another one of Fury's fucking missions? Hadn't she earned more than that?
Evidently not, at least, not in their eyes she didn't.
Her mind couldn't settle, and neither could her body. She paced her kitchen, back and forth and back and forth, practically reliving her life with Clint in her head. She remembered it all, every second, every mission, every goddamn conversation, every look that passed between them she remembered. The moment they met, their first mission together before they had even liked each other much less trusted each other, the first time he'd saved her life, the first time she'd saved his, late nights, early mornings, drudging through paperwork and marshes alike, patching up knife cuts and bullet wounds in two-star motels, the only constant in her work was him.
When she had nightmares, it was his voice that comforted her. When she needed help, but was too stubborn to ask for it he gave her his hand. When the demons of her past threatened to pull her under, he'd dragged her back to shore. When SHIELD wanted to kill her, he'd fought for her life, even though he didn't know the first thing about her. Days with him turned to months and then years, she became a new person with him, a better, stronger person and he'd stood by her through everything, even their fights.
She'd hated him, then tolerated him, then liked him, and before she even knew it, she loved him. Natasha had been beaten, stabbed, shot, tortured, and blown up more times than she could count, and this, this lie, hurt more than all of that put together.
Natasha had lost track of time as she became lost in her thoughts, only when she heard her phone ring did she remember to return to reality.
" Mrs. Barton" She heard as she picked up the phone. "This is Mrs. Aldritch, from Manor Hill."
"God fucking damn it." Natasha hissed, checking her watch. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I'll be there in 15 minutes"
She didn't wait for a reply, simply hanging up as she half sprinted upstairs to throw her uniform on. Quickly, she dashed out of the house, the newly resurrected Clint Barton stayed with her, gnawing at the back of her mind as she sped off.
"Mrs. Barton," Natasha rolled her eyes as the woman in front of her, again, forgot her actual name.
"It's Romanoff, I'm not married." She said somewhat curtly.
"My apologies, Ms. Romanoff. As I was saying, this is the fourth time you've been late this month and…" Natasha cut her off with a wave of her hand and a stone cold glare.
"Look, I work a job within the United States government so highly classified that I could get thrown in a military prison for a good long while if I told you. So, my apologies, if I am, on occasion, a little late but I think you'll come to see that my employment sometimes demands more of me than yours does of you." Without another word, and ignoring the look of shocked offense on the woman's face, Natasha left the room.
Back outside, Natasha was grateful for the fresh air and the mass of people all talking, the sounds a distraction from her present thoughts.
"You okay, Natasha?" A woman asked her, drawing Natasha from her thoughts.
"Yeah fine." The flatness in her voice suggested that she was anything but fine, however nobody seemed in a hurry to challenge her. Frankly, they were all more than a little intimidated by her. Natasha just had this way of carrying herself that just exemplified self-confidence and a zero tolerance for bullshit; her uniform which was always worn with a sidearm didn't do anything to diminish that effect.
Her tenseness and curtness all seemed to melt away a moment later when a small blond boy came running up to her.
"Momma!" He called and she immediately crouched down and scooped the little boy into her arms.
"Hiya kiddo." She said, a bright smile creasing her face, as the boy wiggled playfully in her arms. "You ready to go home then?"
He simply nodded his reply and Natasha set him back down on the ground. Soon the two of them were off, both chatting animatedly about his day at school.