"I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." Clint kept repeating quietly, whether it was his or Nat's comfort, he was not sure and yet it did little to comfort either one of them. In fact, it felt like it made matters worse. That was a lie; if he told her that he wanted everything to stop, he honestly would not see the light of day. The thought of him a former circus act, assassin and current agent in a mental hospital or even at counselling made him chuckle and just as said chuckle was about to leave his throat a hiss left instead. His eyes shut tightly as the pain started from his left wrist and spread throughout his arm. "Hey. Shh, I just need to wrap up. Your... Your …your wrist." slowly he re-opened his eyes and when he did his heart shattered at the sight before him. There she was Natalia, not Natasha but Natalia the girl he was meant to kill all those years ago, frightened of what could have happened if she hadn't stopped him a moment later. Tears were streaming down her ghostly pale face as she began to wrap his…his wrist. His fucking wrist. He had caused her all this fucking pain. Her hands were violently shaking, like the rest of her as he had burnt through her mask, her walls and her fort of protection against feelings, against love. He too was violently shaking not from fear or pain but from anger. His blood was boiling, he wanted to kill whoever caused her so much pain, oh wait he already tried that and well, that didn't quite go to plan now, did it? The answer is no. No, it did not.
A hand pressed down against his abdomen causing him to regain his focus, shit he was naked. In addition, to make matters worse he was naked in front of Natalia (it was not as if they hadn't seen each other naked before, but this…this felt different). Her eyes softened in sadness when he met her gaze, man there was no keeping secrets from her, yet he was able to keep this from her for so long. "I…I just. I just…wanted. Wanted it to stop." He blurted out he barely registered what he had just said until he heard the whimper that left Talia's throat unintentionally. "You wanted. You…you wanted It." she gulped, tears started to stream down her face like a river. "You wanted it to stop." She gulped again as she repeated what she had just said. "You wanted it to stop. All of it." She took a breath "You wanted to leave. Leave me." She stated.
He froze unable to react to what she had just said. Yes, he wanted it to stop and wanted to leave but never in his goddamn life did he ever want to leave her alone, not again. Fuck it he thought, he had nothing left to lose so why not tell her his sad sob story of a life and his stupid ass depression. "Natasha, please…let me explain." He sucked in a deep breath. "I know you hate me right know but please let tell you why, I never wanted to hurt you." He pleaded. "…Never intentionally." He didn't care that he was practically begging he had already lost all his dignity. "You can hate me, hurt me, and leave me. But please, let me explain." Fuck, he seemed so pathetic right now, nothing new then; he said out of pure spite towards himself, hell all he was a pathetic piece of shit.
"Okay. I'll listen." Natalia whispered, and she did, for the next half hour as Clint talked about the events of his life that caused his depression only stopping briefly to calm his thoughts enough for him to continue. Towards the end of the conversation, Clint mentioned Loki and the Chitauri invasion that happened almost a year ago. It had taken months before Clint started taking missions again, because of how livid the nightmares had been. He told her what Loki said about him being a worthless nobody that was only there out of pity, he told her everything, and for once, he felt a huge weight lift off his self-loathing shoulders.
When he finished a silence swept over the bathroom that maintained too much tension for either one of them to be comfortable. A few moments past as Clint gazed at Natasha who just sat there trying to process what he had just said. She needed air she decided all too quickly, throughout the whole time Clint had been talking all she could think about was how if only she had noticed that something was wrong with him, she could have helped him, helped him get better instead of letting him silently destroy himself. The guilt kept hitting her like harsh waves of water; she started to feel as she was drowning. At some point, she met Clint's gaze and tears started to stream down her face once more, she couldn't breathe, Clint reached out to touch her hand but she pushed it away and stood up immediately.
He looked up, his glassy grey eyes looking into her cloudy blue eyes, "Nat, I…"
"Just don't Clint…just don't" with her tone as cold as ice, she turned with tears down her face and left.
"NAT please…" the door closed "I'm sorry" he whispered. "FUCK!" he slammed his fist against the wall and then rested his head against the cool tiles of the wall. He needed to get to her before it was too late, again. Fuck. Why was he such a goddam mess? He attempted to stand up but fell back down again his head fuzzy from trying to stand up so fast. "Take two," he mumbled as he stood up again, slightly slower than the last time. He reached for the door handle but couldn't turn the nob as his wrist was too tightly wrapped for movement. 'Fuck it' he thought as he grabbed his knife and cut through the layers of bandage around his left wrist. He looked down to see his dick and had to do a double take before realising he was still naked. "Shit." He had to put some clothes on before leaving his room, not that it would have been the first time he ran around the hallway naked; he just really didn't want anyone else to see his cuts. He ran into his bedroom forgetting the clothes in the bathroom as they were wet and he didn't want to attract too much attention from the other agents, not again anyway. He grabbed the first things he could find in his closet which were a pair of black boxers, a pair of socks with little pepperoni pizzas on them, camo trousers and a thin black t-shirt, that fit him a little too snugly. Without giving them a second thought, he started to put them on as he was making his way to the door.