indefinite hiatus @thenatashamaximoff - Tumblr Blog

Not All Birds Fly; Ch. 2

Summary: Sometimes, denying the truth is easier than accepting it, but how far are you willing to go to live a peaceful life when she no longer exists?

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

Warnings: death, blood

Words: 12190

✎ | 🕊

The loud, violent shrill of a siren cut through your slumber, startling you awake with a gasp. You sat up, eyes flying open as you immediately searched for the ear-splitting screech to silence it. You breathed out when you found your phone, shutting off the alarm before rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. Your brain was still foggy, discombobulated from the sudden disturbance from your deep, dreamless sleep.

You pulled your hands away from your face, blinking away the darkened edges of your vision, making yourself refocus on what was in front of you. You were seated at the workbench in Clint's barn-turned-house, Natasha's bracelets resting in the middle of the counter. And then it dawned on you, hitting you harder than a semi-truck: you were finished.

The bracelets were done way earlier than you had planned, ready to be tested. And the particles of sleep that were still lingering behind your eyes seemed to have vanished within seconds, replaced by the stomach-turning excitement as you got to your feet, the stool you were sitting on tumbling over. A smile cracked your stoic features, eyes widening as you carefully took one of the bracelets into your hand.

"Nat!" You called her name out enthusiastically, the thrill of happiness rushing through your veins as you turned around, holding up the bracelet. "Nat, it's done! It's" - your voice caught in your throat when you saw that you were alone, no sign of the redheaded beauty anywhere in the vicinity, and when you finished your sentence, your voice was no longer filled with the rush of adrenaline - "done." You felt your shoulders slump in defeat, turning back to face the workbench as you chewed the inside of your cheek. She wasn't here.

How long has it been? A day? Two? They blurred together, but you remember the last you saw of her, the anger and embarrassment mixing together at her rejection caused you to ask her to leave. But she knew you didn't mean it, right? She knew your words were only influenced by the hurt... right? Why is she still gone? You had demanded her departure before in a much harsher way and she came back within hours.

You wanted to see her. You wanted to share the joy of completing another project. You wanted to see the proud smile on her face when you showed her. You wanted to feel her. You wanted her here. And you had an idea of how to achieve that. It worked before, it'll work again.

Grabbing the bracelets, you shoved them into your hoodie pocket as you left the barn. The house didn't seem to be lit up in the night, and you had hoped they were all asleep as you walked towards it. It'd be easier if you didn't have to face Laura or Clint, going in just to get the keys for their car. You didn't have the energy to walk all the way to the city tonight.

Much to your displeasure, you could hear the muffled noises coming from the TV in the other room when you walked through the door. You contemplated your choices for a moment. You could sneak, grab their keys and have the car back before they had any idea it was gone. Or you could just outright ask them to borrow their car. You figured it'd be better if you asked them. There’d be less guilt involved.

You shuffled towards the living room, suddenly feeling more anxious as you continued to get near. Though you had grown closer to Clint because of your job, you had always found a specific type of comfort in Laura you couldn't find in him. You figured it was just the motherly instinct she had developed after having kids.

You stopped at the doorway, clearing your throat softly and hoping they heard it over the quiet TV. When they looked at you, making eye contact with the couple sitting on the couch, you were unexpectedly more fretful. You knew, without a doubt, that you did nothing to deserve their kindness.

"Hey." Laura's voice was soft, welcoming. It made you feel more at ease almost instantly, your shoulders slouching with comfort as she smiled warmly at you. The concern you had felt vanished within one syllable. "How're you doing?"

"I'm okay," you said, your voice hushed. You stepped closer, suddenly aware of how heavy your hoodie pocket is becoming with the hidden bracelets. "I just… think it might be good for me to get out, take a drive around the city." You met Clint's stare and immediately looked away, already feeling the guilt begin to eat at you upon staring into his green irises. "Do you think that I could borrow the car?"

"Y/N-"

"Of course." Laura was quick to cut Clint off, causing you to pick your head up to meet her gaze. She was still smiling warmly, allowing you to breathe. Her hand rested on his shoulder, telling you that she used more than just her words to interrupt him. "On one condition."

You smiled widely, knowing it couldn't possibly be hard to do something in return for borrowing the car. "Yeah. Yeah, anything," you expressed enthusiastically, nodding quickly.

"You eat something." You pursed your lips together as she stood up, giving her husband's hand a squeeze before leaving him on the couch. She gestured for you to follow her as she passed you, and you met Clint's eye one last time before you turned away. "You've been hiding in that barn for six days," she commented, motioning for you to sit at the table.

"Six days?" You sat down slowly, eyebrows furrowed intensely.

"Every time I send one of the kids to bring you food, they'd come back with an untouched plate." You breathed out steadily, watching her reach into the fridge to pull out a plate. "I stopped sending them. Figured if you were hungry, you'd come to the house." She sent you a smile as she popped the food into the microwave. "Doesn't mean I stopped worrying."

"There's nothing to worry about," you assured gently, mirroring her smile, though you hoped she wouldn't see how the smile didn't meet your eyes. "I'm still the same ol' Y/N as I was before."

She crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow at you as she leaned against the counter next to the microwave. "You haven't had anything to eat in a week, Y/N," she pointed out.

"I've been busy," you explained, shaking your head.

You pursed your lips together, averting your gaze and tuning your ears to try and make out what the TV was saying, attempting to give yourself a reprieve from the tense silence. Laura watched you for a moment until the microwave released a beep, moving to give you the plate before pulling a chair out to join you at the table. She was intent on making sure you eat, giving you no choice if you wanted the car. You leaned forward, picking at the food in front of you.

"Thank you," you said quietly. You figured you'd have a few bites, eat enough to satisfy Laura, and then you'd be on your way - you couldn't delay seeing Natasha any longer - but the second your taste buds came into contact with the food, you were suddenly aware of how hungry you truly are. Laura couldn't hide her smile as she watched you become more confident in eating.

"So, what had you so busy that you couldn't eat?" She had an eyebrow raised when you looked over at her, your chewing slowing down as you straighten your posture.

You swallowed the mouthful of food before breathing out. "I was finishing a project," you told her. "I made Nat new bracelets. I added a new ability. She’s going to love them."

Laura's small smile slowly faded away when you turned back to your plate, nodding your head as you shoveled more food into your mouth. "When were you going to give her these bracelets?"

"Her birthday." Your answer was muffled through the food, to which you quickly chewed and swallowed to clear your mouth. You sent her a smile. "It's in a few months. I hope she’ll get a kick out of them. I added this sort of g-"

"How are you going to give them to her, Y/N?" Your eyes focused on Clint standing at the entrance of the kitchen behind Laura, his arms crossed over his chest tautly.

Laura turned to face him in her chair as you slowly looked down, chewing the inside of your cheek. "Clint."

"I'm trying to help her move on."

"Move on?" You furrowed your eyebrows, looking back at him as anger rushed through your veins. You could feel the fury overwhelm your logical thoughts, the crease above your nose deepening with rage. "She didn't break up with me, Clint." His eyes softened, his shoulders slouching. You couldn't blame him for the anger he was feeling, but you weren't thinking about anything except the outrage. "I'm sorry I'm not a professional like you. I can't bury my feelings, pretend they don't exist."

He took a step towards you, his arms uncrossing from his chest to fall back down to his sides. "Y/N-"

"I didn't ask for your help." You looked towards Laura, your jaw tightened as strong as a vise, your voice becoming softer. "Can I go?" It felt as if you were asking your mother permission to be excused from the table, seeing the way her eyes shined with worry as she nodded. "Thank you." You stood up abruptly, the chair you were sitting on scraping across the floor. You shrugged past Clint, grabbing the car keys and making your way out of the house.

You couldn't help it, pain scorching through your nerves as you banged your palm against the steering wheel. The scream that came from your chest tore your throat raw, breathing in deeply as a few hot tears escaped your eyes. You took a moment to calm down before starting the car and peeling out of the driveway.

The roads were just as vacant as the other night, which made driving around easier. Though it was a bit more difficult to see any crime when you're speeding by in a car and slowing down to get a better look could draw suspicion. It was always better to catch criminals off guard. You convinced yourself to park the car and take a walk around.

You knew the chances of finding another crime were low. It's not like the movies, there wasn't going to be one around every corner. This was real life, there weren't that many people without a conscience.

But as soon as you turned the corner, everything you had just thought was proven to be dead wrong.

You took the gauntlets out of your pocket, slipping them onto your wrists and securing them. You could feel the steady, subtle vibration of the electricity coursing through them when you powered them on, outlining an electric blue to show they were working. The bracelets brought adrenaline flowing through you, your posture straightening with confidence.

You made your way down the sidewalk, a beeline right for the two people attempting to break into a home, one clawing at the front door as the other looked around for another way in, disappearing around the house.

"What are you looking for?" you asked once you reached the burglar, their hands flying away from the window to face you. You saw a female in the streetlights, her arms lifting in the air in a surrender fashion. "I'm pretty sure breaking and entering is considered a crime."

She shook her head rapidly, her hands matching the pace as she stepped towards you. "No, no. I live here," she exclaimed. "This is my place. My idiot roommate locked us out."

You furrowed your eyebrows, meeting her gaze in the artificial light. You weren't an expert at reading expressions, but you could tell by the desperation in her voice that she was telling the truth. You quickly apologized, powering down the bracelets and continued down the sidewalk, letting them handle their own problem.

Though you did keep your eye out for any sign of crime, you were also waiting for that empty feeling in your gut to be filled by Natasha's appearance. It was only a matter of time.

"Alright," you expressed quietly, your movements faltering to a stop. You threw your hands up in the air, having no idea how much time has passed since you've gone on your little neighborly patrol. You turned around, eyeing the vacant space around you. There was no sign of crime anywhere, and you were foolish enough not to keep track of all the turns you made to remember your way back to the car. You were lost…

Great.

You began scolding yourself for not paying attention on your outings with Clint's family when you came to visit. No, you spent the entire time mesmerized by Natasha. You spend every single second of the days with your redheaded girlfriend entranced in her beauty. You could be on fire and you wouldn't know if she was around. And the thought of that only made you fall to your knees, exhausted.

You could feel the pit in your stomach grow, twisting and churning your insides painfully, as if someone were wringing a wet rag. You released a strained scream, tears threatening your eyes as you wrapped your arms around yourself. What did you do to deserve this agony? The scream wore down your throat until you couldn't scream anymore, the sound muffled and silent as you leaned forward to press your forehead to the cool concrete. The tears that escaped their prison when you squeezed your eyes shut burned your cheeks on the way down, hot with anguish.

You were tired.

You were unsure of how long you had stayed in that position, the pain in your stomach having subsided what felt like forever ago. You had no motivation to uncurl yourself, but you were forced to when you felt a poke against your arm, sitting up straight and looking towards the person who had disturbed you… to see nothing but air. There wasn't a living being within a hundred yards of you. So what poked you?

There. You saw it. A flash of red hair illuminated by the streetlight above them just before they disappeared around the corner on the other side of the street. You could feel that pit of emptiness in your gut slowly fill, encouraging you to climb to your feet. There was only one person you knew who had red hair.

"Nat?" Your voice came out a soft whisper, no possible way for whoever had rounded the corner across the street would be able to hear you. The logical side of your brain - the one telling you that Natasha isn't the only person in the world with red hair and that whoever had passed by could've been quite literally anybody - was easily overpowered by your desire to see her again. You no longer hesitated to scramble after her.

She was already disappearing behind the building at the end of the street by the time you made it to the corner, a sigh escaping your throat as you made your way, chasing her with new vigor. You called out for her again, desperate to see her eyes just one last time. But you couldn't seem to catch up, turning a corner just in time to watch her disappear around another one. How far were you willing to go just to see the sea of green held in her eyes?

You didn't have time to answer the silent question. By the time you reached the end of the street, you stopped in your tracks. Though you weren't face to face with Natasha, you were presented with front-row seats in watching a crime unfold before your eyes.

You gathered yourself, sucking in a deep breath and standing tall. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears; now was not the time to show fear. Your stride was strong and confident, unwavering despite the tiny voice in the back of your head trying to scream at you to pull back. To turn around and hightail it back to the car - wherever the car is. But you shoved that voice away, deep into a small crevice of your brain as you marched forward.

There were five people, yet one of them was forced onto their knees, a knife pinned to their throat by one of the others. It was logical of you to believe that the woman on the ground was innocent, staring at the man in front of her with an anger you could see in her locked jaw. She was smart not to struggle, not with the blade pressed against her neck.

You inched closer, your heart continuing to beat rampantly against your ribcage. You could feel the nervous sweat on your palms, and your confident steps became less assured. But before you allowed your brain to convince yourself to turn back, your mouth was already forming words, "One against four? Well, I don't think that's very fair."

You're not really sure exactly how you managed not to show the fear in your voice, having said your silly little introduction with assertiveness. You were hoping your expression was doing just as well in hiding how terrified you were when all five people turned their attention to you. You were starting to worry when you could no longer hear your heart beating loudly in your ears. When you turned the bracelets on, you could feel the electricity vibrating against your skin. Yeah, you were still alive.

“This doesn’t pertain to you,” the man declared, stepping toward you, while the three you assume to be his partners, more men, stood their ground as they looked at you. The man holding the woman down kept his grip tight. “You might want to leave before you get hurt.”

“Listen to him, Y/N.” You perked up at Natasha’s voice, loud and clear in your head, though nowhere near you when your eyes quickly roamed the area. Your first instinct was to listen to her, to turn around and leave the helpless woman to her fate, but you took a step forward regardless. No, hearing her wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to see her.

“Are you deaf?” the man declared through clenched teeth, watching you inch closer to him. “I said turn around and walk away or else.” He reached behind his back, pulling out a gun and flashing it at you. You had no choice but to halt your movements, with less than ten yards of space between you and him. He wasn’t aiming the gun, only showing it off, but you weren’t willing to take the chance. “Atta girl.” He sent you a toothy grin, proud of himself for finally getting you to cooperate. “Now, go back to where you came from. This is private business.” He waved the gun, gesturing for you to leave, but you didn’t.

“Y/N.” Your head tilted at Natasha’s voice in your ears, chills crawling up your spine. “Please.” You were so close, you could feel it. There’s no use in turning back now.

You lifted your arm up, aiming the bracelet at the man. His grin grew wider, easygoing. He saw no threat in your glowing bracelets, and he saw no threat in you. He laughed, looking towards his partner as he pointed at you. And when he opened his mouth - presumably to make a joke about your so-called weapon - the only thing that came out was the screams of agony when you shot a taser disk at him. Only, it wasn’t the man wielding the gun who made the noise. It was the goon behind him.

You really had to learn how to aim this thing. Natasha always made it look so easy.

The man looked back at his friend in time to watch him fall to the floor, blue sparks of electricity covering his body, before turning back to you, all humor on his face erased, replaced with pure anger. “What did you do?” he demanded. And though you missed your target, you couldn’t help but laugh at how incredibly well the bracelet works! A wide smile on your face as you looked down at your wrists for a moment.

“They work!” you announced proudly, picking your head up. The excitement didn’t last long when you made eye contact with the man… behind the barrel of the gun. You raised your hands up on instinct, your eyes wide as you saw the fire flicker in his.

“Did you kill him?” he questioned, angrier than before.

“No, no. He’s only unconscious,” you stated. “I swear, he’s breathing. Check his pulse.”

The man looked back at one of his friends and nodded his head. You watched with bated breath as he kneeled down next to the unconscious man, pressing his fingers against his neck. And when he nodded his head, you felt your stomach drop in realization. “You killed him.”

“No.” You shook your head, waving your hands. “No, I- I didn’t mean to. I must’ve gotten the voltage wrong.”

The man’s finger pressed firmly against the trigger, the gun aimed right at you, and you flinched when the gun went off, your eyes squeezing tightly shut as you waited for the pain of being shot. It had to have been worse than getting kicked in the gut over and over, so why weren’t you feeling anything?

You couldn’t stop yourself from opening an eye out of curiosity, and you could feel your heart flutter when you opened them both to meet Natasha’s gaze. She had her hand wrapped around the man’s wrist, pushing his arm up to point the gun in the air, preventing the bullet from hitting you. You no longer felt any fear, watching Natasha take care of the man. Fists flew, and feet lifted off the ground. It was satisfying to watch, never having been able to witness firsthand the assassin in action. The men stood no chance, not being able to land a hit on the redhead, not even capable of seeing her with how fast she was moving. You were locked in a trance, so distracted by the way Natasha moved as fluidly as water that you didn’t even notice the woman you had saved sneak off.

When it was all said and done, Natasha stood in the middle of three unconscious - and, unfortunately, one dead - men once again, and she was barely out of breath. You had a small sense of deja vu; only this time, you weren’t on the ground and in pain.

“That was awesome!” you expressed, walking towards her. She placed her hands on her hips, looking at you with a look of disapproval, but you managed to ignore it. “They didn’t even see you coming! How do you do that?”

“I told you to leave, Y/N.”

You pursed your lips together, the smile that had managed to grow on your face fading with realism. “I was never a very good listener, was I?”

“This is serious,” Natasha expressed, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re going to get yourself hurt. What would you have done if I wasn't here in time?"

Get shot was the answer that was on the tip of your tongue, but you bit back. You really had no response to her question, knowing you should've listened to both her and the gunman. You could say the fear had cemented you to the ground, leaving you incapable of moving, which is the truth. But you also knew there was a part of you that wanted to stay, and you chose to listen to that instead. Now? Well, now you have to weasel your way out of a lecture from- Wait a damn minute…

“You are the one that led me here,” you countered. “Why would you bring me to the crime only for you to tell me to leave?”

She sighed, taking a step towards you. "Go home, Y/N."

"Go home?" You furrowed your eyebrows, pursing your lips together as your head tilted slightly to the side. You couldn't help but laugh at the irony, the sound grim and dry as you were having trouble finding what was funny. And when you spoke, your voice held a hint of bitterness that wasn't at all subtle, "My home is dead. Yeah. Swan dived right off a damn cliff. Sound familiar?"

"I wouldn't really call it a swan dive, per se." She sent you a smirk, an attempt to lighten the mood. It didn't work.

You stared at her, your stoic expression causing her small grin to fade away, before walking past her. You shook your head as you kneeled next to the man you had accidentally killed, pressing your fingers against his neck. You silently begged that the other man was fibbing, telling a lie just to get the action started, but your eyes closed slowly when you couldn't find what you were looking for. He was, in fact, dead. And you were the cause of it.

You felt sick.

"Why didn't you listen to me?" Natasha's voice reached your ears, her tone much softer and gentler than before. Less disappointed, more concerned. You opened your eyes and stood up, turning around to face her with a perplexed look. "That could've been avoided." She gestured to the deceased man behind you, and your jaw locked so tightly, you could've sworn you heard it click.

"Why did you listen to me?" you asked.

"You asked me to leave."

"I didn't mean it." You threw your hands up when you shrugged, hearing them slap against your legs when they fell back to your sides. "I didn't mean it, Nat." You could feel your bottom lip threaten to tremble, shaking your head as you sucked in a deep breath to try and prevent the sign of weakness. It didn't work. You had to force yourself to look away, turning to the side as your hands clenched into tight fists. Anger boiled your blood, yet sadness blurred your vision with unshed tears. You slightly flinched when you felt a hand fall onto your shoulder, as light as a feather. You breathed in deeply, releasing it slowly as you watched Natasha step in front of you, her second hand gripping your other shoulder. The next time you spoke, your voice was small, “I killed someone.”

“I know, sweetheart, but you have to leave,” she expressed. “You can’t stay here anymore. You have to go back to Barton.” You looked into her eyes, thriving on the softness and warmth you could find in the green irises, so distracted by the comfort that you had completely disregarded the way the side of her face was washed by a moving, yellow light. “Y/N, please, you need to go.”

You felt something grip your arm tightly, tugging you away from Natasha with a grunt. You looked forward, allowing the woman you had saved earlier drag you. Your mouth was glued shut with confusion, pulling you further and further as you sent a glance over your shoulder. Though Natasha was gone, you saw the fleet of vehicles pull up just before you had rounded a corner. When she finally released you, she turned to show you her face, an angry, puzzled look crossing her features. “Are you dense?”

“...What?”

“You didn’t hear those cars coming?”

You cleared your throat, snapping yourself out of your daze as you took a step back from her. Why was she so close? “No, I… didn’t.” You shook your head, your eyebrows furrowing as she rolled her eyes and started to walk away from you.

“Follow her.” You didn’t turn toward her voice, feeling her presence behind you as you watched the blonde walk away. You huffed lightly before following the redhead’s command, shuffling after the stranger quickly.

“Only reason I saved you is because you saved me,” she declared once she heard you catch up, maintaining your distance behind her. “Now, I don’t have a debt with a…” She stopped walking suddenly, and you had to catch yourself to prevent running into her. As she turned to face you, she looked you up and down with skepticism, an eyebrow raised dubiously. “Hey, how did you do that thing?”

“Don’t tell her.” Your lips formed a thin line at Natasha’s words, giving in to glance behind you. She stood there, sending daggers of cynicism at the blonde. When you turned back to look at her, her eyes just moved to meet yours.

You shrugged. “Do what thing?”

She squinted, crossing her arms over her chest as she measured you. “I can’t tell if you’re acting stupid or if you really are.” She shook her head, releasing a heavy sigh. “It’s really not that important to me.” She turned on her heels and continued her walk. “We can walk together for a few blocks just to be safe, then we’ll go our separate ways.”

“Hey, so, what did you do to piss those guys off?” Not that it was hard to. Less than two minutes and the one dude pulled a gun on you. She probably called him stupid, too. That most likely would’ve done it.

“I said we can walk together,” she declared. “I didn’t say we can talk.” You breathed out softly, looking down at the bracelets wrapped around your wrists. It wasn’t much longer before she let out a heavy sigh and said, “I stole something from them.”

“What’d you steal?”

“A flash drive,” she answered, her head straight forward. You watched the back of her head, the way her long hair swayed with every step she took.

“They’re after you for a flash drive?”

“That’s the least of your concerns,” she said. “They’re after you now.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, feeling confusion bring a wave of fog to your brain for a moment. “For what?”

“You ask that as if you didn’t just murder one of them.” You could feel your heart drop into your stomach like it was jumping off a diving board at her words, bringing back the realization that, yes, you did actually just kill someone. And his friends may have painted a target on your back because of it. “Are you done with the twenty questions now?”

“Ask her what was on the drive.”

Your head turned towards Natasha. “No.” The woman stopped walking again, turning around to face you as her arms went up in annoyance. You chewed the inside of your cheek as you cleared your throat, gripping your hips with your hands as you sent the woman a sheepish smile. “Uh… what- What was on the drive?”

“A bunch of files maybe, I don’t know,” she expressed, shrugging. “I was hired to steal it. I don’t ask my client questions.”

“I mean, aren’t you a little bit curious as to what’s on the drive?”

She stared at you, blinking as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, uh…”

“Y/N.”

“I didn’t ask.” She smiled at you, but there was a hint of irritation behind the forced grin. “As long as I get my money, I couldn’t really care less what’s on the drive.”

“You don’t really believe her, do you, Y/N?” You breathed out, watching Natasha move to stand to the side, her eyes remaining on the stranger carefully.

"I don't know." It was said instinctively, earning a confused look from the lady. There was a part of you that wanted to believe her, there was another part - that part primely being called Natasha - was fully skeptical of the blonde. You were unsure of which to listen to.

"You don't know?" She scoffed, and her response to your statement made you think that she had asked you something you didn't hear over Natasha's voice. She breathed out slowly, trying to keep her temper together as she squeezed the bridge of her nose.

"No, I- I wasn't talking to you." You shook her head as she removed her hand from her face, looking at you.

"Then who were you talking to?"

"Don't tell her, Y/N."

"Not you," you answered.

"There's nobody else here," she countered. “Who is it?”

"She's getting too jumpy. I don't like it."

"Shut up." The woman looked offended for a brief moment at your command, causing your eyes to widen. "No, no. Not- Not you." You cast your gaze towards Natasha, who met yours in return, giving her a look that you hoped she'd listen to.

"Are you crazy?" You turned back to the woman to catch her slightly leaning towards you.

"Y/N, just leave."

"No." You groaned in frustration.

The woman hummed. "I don't believe that."

You looked at Natasha. "You need to go, Y/N."

"You're talking to someone who isn't here." The blonde’s voice pulled your gaze back to her.

You averted your eyes to the ground, running your hands down your face. "Don't listen to her."

"It's just the two of us-"

"Y/N-"

“-for now.”

"-run away."

“I'm sure we'll be joined soon by the people we both crossed.”

"Both of you shut up!" Your hands flew away from your face as you picked your head up, looking at Natasha, then the blonde. You breathed out, shaking your head as the woman stared at you, and you felt yourself grow smaller underneath her analyzing eyes. She was measuring you once again, clearly trying to figure out if you were going to be a threat to her or not. But when you took a step back, her posture relaxed just a bit.

"You are crazy."

"I'm not crazy," you stated lowly, shaking your head.

"You're seeing someone who isn't there," she pointed out. "If that's not the textbook definition of crazy, I don't know what is." She watched you turn your head, and her eyes followed yours only to find an empty space. "You need to go home, Y/N."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but she's right."

"Maybe get some help." You looked back at the woman, your shoulders slumping in defeat. "Whatever you're going through, the pain will go away."

Her movement was hesitant, but she finally managed to give in and rest a hand on your shoulder. Giving you an encouraging yet semi-awkward squeeze, she turned on her heels and walked away, watching her walk down an alley.

You didn't follow her.

“You need to stop planting doubt in my head, Nat,” you expressed as you marched forward. “Your inability to trust people is contagious.”

“You need to learn that not everybody is your friend,” she explained, easily matching your stride as you continued down the sidewalk. “There are some people who only look out for themselves, and most people won’t protect a stranger. Which is what she is to you.”

“She did save me from a bunch of people I didn’t see coming because I was a little bit distracted by a certain green-eyed redhead.”

“She said it herself,” Natasha responded with a scoff, “she only saved you because you saved her. Now she doesn’t care about you anymore. Not the way I do.”

“No, Nat, because you care about me oh so much that you just couldn’t wait to leave me all alone.” You breathed out a heavy sigh as you stopped walking, turning to face her as you pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and index finger. “Look, I really don’t want to fight.” You didn’t want to risk saying something to make her disappear for an extended amount of time again. This version of her seemed sensitive to your words, though which ones, you were still figuring that out. “I need you with me. You clearly get me out of situations-”

“You shouldn’t be finding yourself in,” she finished. “Y/N, if you had listened to me-”

“Then that man would still be alive.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“Save the speech, Nat, I know what I’m doing.” You shook your head, scoffing as you started walking once more. “I’m more than capable of handling myself.”

“How do you throw a punch then?” You found yourself stopping again, turning around to look at her with a raised eyebrow. “Come on, you said you’re more than capable of handling yourself. Surely you know how to throw a punch then.” She closed the distance between you, standing within arm's length away. Her hands extended out to her sides, palms towards you, as she said, “Hit me.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I’m not going to hit you.”

“Hit me, Y/N.”

“Nat, no.”

Her movement was quick, her hand pushing against your shoulder, but it only pulled an exasperated sigh from your throat as her arms fell back to her sides. “Just hit me.”

“There’s no reason for me to-”

“Hit. Me.”

“Stop it. I’m not going to-” You stepped back at the impact of her hand against your shoulder once more, rolling your eyes in annoyance. “Nothing you do is going to make me-”

“Y/N-”

“No-”

“Throw a-”

“I’m not going to-”

“Hit me!” Your arm swung involuntarily, your teeth gritting tightly, and you surely would've hit her jaw if she hadn't pulled back an inch. She could only seem to smile as you huffed out in aggravation. “Good. Now, your posture is off just a little bit-”

With a shake of your head, you turned your back on her and started to walk away. “I’m not going to accept fighting lessons from you right now.” Your eyes burned as you instinctively squeezed them shut, feeling the adrenaline slowly start to wear off as you walked. “We just need to find the truck and head back to the house otherwise they’re not going to let me borrow it anymore and then we’ll have to just keep walking to the city.”

“Or,” Natasha started, “you could, you know, not put your life at risk every night.”

“I really don’t see that happening any time soon if I’m being honest with you.”

“You’re not Batman, Y/N.”

“Batman?” You scoffed a laugh. “That’s a comic book character, Nat. He isn’t real.”

You could hear her chuckle from behind you, and the sound alone managed to flip your stomach. “You’re saying you don’t believe in Batman?” You couldn’t help but smile as she laughed again. “You do remember what your job was, right? Building tech for heroes… such as Batman.”

“I didn’t build anything for Batman,” you corrected. “I built stuff for other people, like Hawkeye and Captain America. Sometimes even this cocky assassin that chose to go by Black Widow. Never Iron Man, although he did take my ideas to improve on them.” You huffed, shaking your head as you swiped your arms through the air. “Alright, just- Enough with the Batman. He isn’t real, end of story. Help me find the truck.”

“Just keep going straight.”

You followed her command and let the silence of the night settle over the two of you. It gave you time to think, to process what exactly had gone down. You killed a man, that tidbit of information wasn’t going to be leaving you any time soon. You couldn’t help but wonder just how many lives have been taken because of the equipment you supplied these heroes. Natasha wasn’t hesitant to take a life, and neither was Clint. But it was never you pulling the trigger like now. You took that man’s last breath. You had to get back to the house and fix the bracelets. You don’t want a replay of what happened tonight. You don’t want to take another man away from his family… if he had one.

“Stop thinking about it.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking about.” You couldn’t help but snap at her, your eyes forward as your jaw clenched. Your head shook, your lips pursing together tightly as you trudged onward. Find the truck, go back to Clint’s. That’s all you needed to do. But you could sense her eyes staring at the back of your head, radiating judgment and conjecture. Your heart ran rampant against your ribcage, and you could feel that last thread of sanity slowly coming apart. You stopped walking, turning around to face her. “Please, Nat, tell me how to fix this.”

She breathed out, her shoulders slumping as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her green eyes were sparkling and it made you feel like you weren’t so crazy after all. “You can’t, my love.” Your chin dropped to your chest in defeat, rubbing the back of your neck as your eyes squeezed shut. Exhaustion was one of the many things you were feeling right now. “The only thing you can do is keep moving forward.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” You picked your head up to look at her, your arm falling back to your side as your lips formed a thin, tight line. Your eyes met hers, but you didn’t feel the relief those emeralds usually held. “What if I just want to… I want to quit.”

“Y/N-”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head rapidly. “I don’t want to move forward anymore, Nat.”

“You can’t live in the past forever.”

“Why not?” you questioned. “You’re there.” And being with Natasha is the only thing you know. You scoffed, shaking your head. “She said the pain would go away. That woman. But… she didn't know what it meant to be here without you.”

She looked at you, a sigh slightly parting her lips.

“You know, I can’t understand you,” you admitted. “One second, you’re telling me that you’re real. Another second, you’re claiming you’re dead and that I need to just move on. Which is it, Nat? Are you dead or are you alive? And why can I see you and- and feel you? Because you… jumped off a cliff to sacrifice yourself for- for some stone and you didn’t come back. You didn’t come back, Nat.”

“Baby-”

“No!” You took a step away from her, shaking your head. “No. I’m not- I’m not crazy. Out of the entire team, I was the only one that was sane! I mean… Tony and Bruce made an artificial killing machine. You and Clint went headfirst into an alien battle with nothing but a pistol and a damn bow. You all went to war over a stack of papers! I was the only one who was logical! Who made any kind of sense! And now…” You trailed off, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth as you shook your head once again, looking into the eyes of an illusion. “Everybody else is saner than I am.”

“You’re not crazy, Y/N.”

“Says my dead girlfriend.”

“I’m here for a reason.” She took a step towards you, her hands twitching to reach for you, but they remained by her sides. “I’m here to help you process everything that’s happening. I show up at the times you need me the most.”

“You’re a figment of my imagination,” you countered. “You’re a hallucination conjured up by my mind to help me cope with this grief because I just can’t accept the fact that you’re gone, Nat.” You chewed the inside of your cheek, placing your hands on your hips as you breathed in a shaky breath.

"Why are you so much more reckless now than you were when I was here?" She raised an eyebrow, challengingly, as a smirk lifted her lips. "Where was this Y/N before?" She poked your side teasingly, but you quickly swatted her away.

You furrowed your eyebrows, taking a small step back from her. "I'm still me."

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Come on, Y/N," she countered. "You're running head first into danger. You're telling people how you feel- How you really feel. You weren't doing that a month ago. What? Did my death finally pull you out of your shell?"

"Shut up," you snapped. But your attempt to be dominant didn’t get very far when she laughed at your demand; a low chuckle that caused her to shake her head slowly. You huffed, annoyed that she clearly wasn’t taking you seriously. Annoyed that she was going to continue to patronize you no matter what you say. Annoyed that her smile still caused the butterflies to get antsy in your stomach. You sighed softly, feeling your shoulders slump as you stepped toward her. “I wish we never answered that call,” you whispered, reaching for her hand to bring it in between yours. You savored the warmth of her touch, looking down at them as you allowed the feeling to calm your nerves.

“You don’t mean that.”

“No,” you countered, “I do. We were happy, Nat. Sure, half the world had dusted away, but we were happy. And then… your phone rang. I saw Tony's name…” You scoffed, shaking your head as you looked up to meet her gaze. "If I could go back, I wouldn't have answered the phone. I would've done whatever it took for you to not die because the whole world believes you're dead when you're just really good at lying."

She crossed an arm across her chest, her eyes soft as she watched you carefully. Her lips formed a thin line, yet she didn't seem to be hurt by your accusation. In a world where she's only visible to the one who held her in their heart, she had to give you free passes. "I thought you were past this stage," she commented. "Then again, grief isn't really linear." Your chin fell to your chest, pressing her knuckles against your lips.

“I wouldn’t have answered the phone…” You remembered as if it was yesterday, but your memories soon became clouded with panic when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your neck, your hands clawing at their elbow as their grip tightened. You looked at Natasha, her emerald eyes gazing at you as she watched you struggle against the hostile party.

“This is for your own protection.” A voice, a familiar voice, whispered in your ear as your fight became futile. And, as you fell into the bottomless pit of darkness, you saw the headlights of a car turn the corner at the end of the street.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━⧗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The darkness was accepted, holding a comfort that helped you relax. You needed this. Serenity was hard to find when all you've been experiencing the past few days was nothing but stress. It calmed you down and loosened the tense pressure that had formed in your muscles. Sleeping held the same sensation as it would if one were being hugged.

But you knew this situation wasn't permanent. The darkness, as always, was only temporary. You have to enjoy it while you can, this state of tranquility, before it comes to be interrupted by the world of light. Yet it didn't last as long as you had originally hoped - the feeling of something gliding across your cheek was slowly bringing you out of this slumber.

Your face automatically twitched away from the touch, and a peal of light laughter fanning against your ear was the cause of your consciousness. The slight pressure returned to your face, leaving a faint tingling sensation in its path, and you had to find the will to open your eyes if you wanted to locate the reason for the disturbance. But… the touch was warm. It held more comfort than the darkness ever could. And the laugh, it had brought chills to your spine. You knew who it was and it was the exact reason why you didn't want to open your eyes knowing this feeling could end, and you'd only find yourself alone in a partially empty bed.

"Wake up, Y/N." But she felt so real, her lips grazing against your earlobe, her finger sliding up and down your cheek.

"Five more minutes." She laughed at your mumbled response, a cliche request for more sleep. Nobody ever let it fall through, and it certainly wasn't going to happen now. She seemed so adamant about you waking up, and you wondered why.

"We have a lot to do today, darling." You would be a fool to fall for this trick again, but you had to open your eyes and face reality eventually.

You breathed out, feeling your gut twist uncomfortably as your eyes slowly fluttered open. You turned your head and felt your heart nearly leap out of your chest when you made eye contact with Natasha, her green eyes shining brighter than ever as a smile lit up her features.

"There you are," she whispered, poking your nose quickly before pulling her hand away. "It feels like you've been asleep forever."

Your mouth propped open, but you couldn't seem to find your voice. The feeling of deja vu seemed to wash over you, but your eyes were glued onto Natasha's smiling face. You couldn't look away even if you wanted to - not that you wanted to. This moment, this was real. You could feel it.

Was everything all just a dream?

You lifted your arm, gently placing your palm against her cheek and your heart skipped a beat when she leaned into your touch. You didn't waste a second, leaning forward to press your lips against hers in a desperate kiss, urgently deepening it as you pulled her closer to you. You could feel the moment your soul felt whole again. Though your eyes were closed, you could feel the tears slip through and make their way down your cheeks, the sob escaping your chest caused her to pull away from you, her eyebrows pinched in concern as your chin fell.

"Baby? Baby, what's wrong?" She swiped at your forehead with one hand, her other hand lifting your chin to get a better look at your face. "Come on, detka, you know you can tell me anything. What happened?"

But you only shook your head, resting your forehead against hers as you breathed her in. "I really love you."

She laughed gently, it managed to soothe you as the sobs racking your chest settled down. "I love you," she returned, smiling softly. "Are you sure you're all right? Was it a bad dream?" You nodded into her, letting your eyes fly close. "It's okay," she whispered softly, a sound that automatically placed you into serenity. "It wasn't real."

"I was scared."

Her lips formed a brief frown, but she was quick to recover. She pulled away from you, stroking your cheek with her thumb as she said, "I know what'll make you feel better."

You opened your eyes, meeting her gaze only to be overwhelmed with a comfort the ghost version of Natasha couldn't reach. "What?"

"A nice, warm shower," she offered, her voice low as she moved her hand down to grip the back of your neck, "and a fulfilling breakfast." Her lips grazed across yours when she tugged you to her, feeling your breath hitch in your throat at the closeness. A ball of heat formed in your gut as you yearned for her touch, tilting your chin up in an attempt to catch her lips in yet another passionate kiss, but she only pulled away from your efforts.

You collapsed back onto the bed with a huff, your head falling into the pillows as she laughed.

"I'll start the shower," she offered, finding your hand to give it a comforting squeeze. "Hopefully you'll be joining me in a moment." You watched as she climbed out of the bed, sending you a sly wink before vanishing into the bathroom.

Her disappearance gave you a moment to look around, and the feeling of deja vu had only grown stronger when you realized where you were. You were home. Having moved away from New York, convincing Natasha to hang up her batons and retire after the Blip. Finding a cozy little house in a nice neighborhood. Happiness, despite the circumstances, was the only thing you had felt during this time. And to see that her death was only a dream comforted you. It wasn't real. You weren't living in an old barn. You weren't seeing an illusion of Natasha summoned up by your grief-stricken brain.

You took the moment to relax. Everything you had thought you knew was all a nightmare. A seemingly never-ending nightmare. And now you were awake, and it was all going to be shoved into the back of your mind. You were going to enjoy reality with your girlfriend.

A ringing interceded your thoughts for a brief moment, pulling your attention to the nightstand opposite yours. Natasha’s phone. And, stretching your neck to get a view of the caller ID, you felt your stomach drop at Tony’s name. You had a sneaking feeling that you knew exactly what he wanted, not having any contact with anybody from SHIELD since the fall of humanity years ago, and you remembered all too well in your nightmare about the what-if. You had answered the phone, you had admitted to Natasha exactly what the billionaire wanted despite everything in your bones telling you not to. She gave in, packed her bags and moved back to New York with you in tow. Given the chance to fix a “mistake,” you knew she was going to take it.

You ignored the call this time, sending it to voicemail before completely shutting the phone down. “Who was it?” Her voice could be heard over the water coming from the bathroom, and you chewed the inside of your cheek for a moment before giving her an answer.

“Wrong number.”

That was it. She didn’t question it further, she had no reason to. She wasn’t expecting a random call from Tony Stark. She had stopped expecting those calls years ago. And you knew they’d be perfectly fine solving this problem without her. There were still people left to help them, they could call any of them. Right now, you were going to enjoy this fix in time. Natasha didn’t have to die. And you didn’t have to lose your entire world.

“Are you coming?”

Everything was right in the universe again.

But when your surroundings changed as your eyes opened, you found yourself confused and, ultimately, disappointed. Laying on a bench in a holding cell at the police station, you were forced to sit up when you met eyes with a large, scary-looking man who was a bit too close to you.

Did the cops find the body? Traced it back to you and scooped you up off the sidewalk after forcefully succumbing to unconsciousness by an unknown assailant. Though now would probably be a decent time to start panicking - you're in jail for murder, what would Clint and Laura think now - you couldn't really bring yourself to get into that state of mind. It seems that you have fully given in to whatever the world has to offer you.

You rested your head against the wall, releasing a sigh as you closed your eyes once more, desperate to go back to Wonderland. You knew there was no use. You knew it was too good to be true. You did answer that phone call from Tony. You did tell Natasha what he had wanted. You did move back to New York to help the world just one. Last. Time. Only it really was one last time because you no longer had the motivation to help the thing that took her away from you.

“It was nice while it lasted, wasn’t it?” Your eyes opened, slowly turning your head to look at Natasha, who had settled onto the bench next to you. You breathed out deeply as you returned your head forward, allowing your eyes to close once again. “A world of what ifs.”

“Can you please not be your usual snarky self right now? I'm too tired.” You were unsure how long you've been out for, but you do know it wasn't long enough.

Natasha sighed. “You don’t know how you ended up in jail, do you?”

“Not a clue,” you confessed.

“What do you remember?”

You opened your eyes, looking at her once more. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

She shrugged. "I'm usually in need of answers."

You huffed when she shook her head, that signature smirk of hers twitching her lips. You leaned forward, resting your elbows against your knees as you looked through the bars of the cell, watching the people in blue scurry through the room. “I remember being choked. A voice. A car. And then blackness.”

“Who’d the voice belong to?”

You fought against the mugginess happening in your brain, forcing yourself to remember. “I’m doing this for your own protection.” It was a familiar voice. Not one you’ve grown accustomed to, but one that was still fresh on your mind at the time.

“The woman.” You took a shot in the dark, there isn’t really any other way for it to be someone else.

“Right.” Natasha leaned forward to look at your face. “And then what?”

“Nat-”

“Who’d the car belong to?”

You sighed, shaking your head. You couldn’t remember, that was the part you had blacked out. “I was out of it at that point. How could I remember that?”

“Just think, Y/N.”

“I am thinking.” You looked towards the other occupants of the cell - the “no personal space” man from earlier was eyeing you like you were nuts (which, to be fair, you totally are), and the others seemed to be too out of it to give you any care. You turned away, burying your face in your hands as you tried to think. You lowered your voice to whisper to Natasha, “I can’t remember what I can’t see.”

“You did see it, Y/N.” She crouched down in front of you, gently tugging your hands away from your face so she could look into your eyes. She smiled at you softly, and you hated how easily you lost yourself in those pools of emeralds. "Just not the way you think." She rested her arms against your knees, her hold on your wrists gentle, bringing a comfort that nearly reached serenity. "Close your eyes and think."

A deep, heavy breath parted your lips as you slowly nodded, allowing your eyes to flutter close at Natasha's command. Your body relaxed under her touch as your mind wandered back to what had happened, darkness engulfing you in a tight hold. No, you didn't see what happened, but just because you didn't have your vision doesn't mean you didn't have your other senses. You could still feel the woman's arms wrapped around your neck, you could still smell the outside air, and you could hear the sirens.

"Cops." Your eyes flew open, and you grinned when Natasha nodded in approval. "It was a cop car. She-" Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and the redhead in front of you watched with bated breath as you tried to piece it together in your mind. "She called the cops on us? But why?" For your own protection? That's what she had said, but what did she mean by it?

Were you going to get caught? The man you had killed, the men Natasha had attacked, their gang would surely see to it that you would end up in a grave as well. No doubt they would have searched the perimeter for you and her, but it wasn't them who found you. It was the police.

"I was too busy talking to you to keep moving," you pointed out. "She called the police on us to save us." You sat up, a small smile lifting your lips. “She saved us, Nat. Again. This just goes to show that your whole trust issue is moot.”

She sat next to you as you leaned against the wall, turning your head to look at her with a beaming grin. She released a gentle laugh, mirroring your stance. You reached for her, intertwining your fingers through hers as a soft breath parted your lips. Your thumb skated across the top of her hand as you stared into her hypnotizing eyes, your gut twisting and turning with warmth. You knew you could sit here all day with her, mesmerized by her. How the light slipping through the barred window above you cast a brilliant glow on her face, how the feeling of her felt as genuine as the dream you had, how your heart crawled up to your throat with happiness that you thought it might just explode. Sure, you were in a holding cell - presumably under the guise that you were just another bum on the street - but you were content. Because she was here, and you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Y/N!” The loud voice pulled you out of your daze suddenly, turning toward the source to see a towering police officer at the entrance to the cell. “You’re free to go.” The keys jangled in his hands as he worked to unlock the door, and you were on your feet within seconds to make your way out of this prison. He guided you to the entrance, the bubbles in your chest immediately dissipating at the sight of Clint standing in the lobby the moment you turned the corner.

Dread covered your body head to toe as he uncrossed his arms from his chest to rest his hands on his waist when he spotted you. It was the cliche disappointed father stance. It didn’t go unnoticed by the entire police station, eyes lingering on the two of you as you stepped up to him. Your lips were pursed together, your fingers twiddling with each other as you anticipated the lecture you were bound to receive one of these days, but you were pulled out of that state of mind when his arms wrapped around you to bring you against his body in a tight hug. Yet it was a brief one, pulling away quickly as he cleared his throat.

“Come on.” He nodded his head for you to follow him out of the doors, but you felt yourself stagger when your eyes landed on a piece of paper pinned to the community bulletin board. Your brows knitted tightly together with confusion, your heart stopping in your chest as your mind tried to work out exactly what you were looking at.

“Rogers?” You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the poster, the silhouette of Captain America burning memories into your mind that caused your stomach to turn upside down. You felt someone bump against your shoulder as they stood next to you, and you didn’t need to look to know it was Natasha. “Why would they…”

“Everybody loves musicals.” Her voice was low, but you could detect a hint of amusement in her tone.

“Y/N-” Clint traced back to you not long after he realized you had stopped, and released a hefty sigh. He didn’t hesitate to rip it off of the board, crumpling it in his fist and tossing it into a nearby trashcan before guiding you out of the building.

The ride home seemed to drag as you anticipated the lecture you had expected back at the precinct. Though he has yet to say anything since he got into the car, and you were pretty sure this was worse than being scolded. The silence seemed to suffocate you, pressing against your chest with extraordinary strength as you couldn’t seem to keep your knee still. Your eyes were glued to the window, but you’d catch yourself glancing at him every now and again.

Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why wasn’t he expressing his disappointment? His anger? Maybe he was trying to figure out what to say. How to say it? Was he just refusing to talk to you now? Maybe he was too disappointed to conjure up the appropriate words. Too angry to put his thoughts into sentences. You couldn’t handle it. He was too quiet and you hated it.

“Calm down.” You felt your entire body relax at her voice, releasing a low breath as your knee finally stopped bouncing. “Ask him.” But you shook your head, pursing your lips together as you glanced at him in the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t be the first one to break the silence. You needed him to speak before you. “Just ask him.”

“Are you angry?” The words came out of your mouth before you really had time to process much of anything.

“No.” It was a curt answer, and it told you not to push any further…

“Disappointed?” He breathed out deeply through his nose as he shook his head.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you, Y/N?” He glanced at you briefly before returning his stare to the road. “You’re acting irrationally. Getting yourself in trouble with not only the police but criminals as well.”

You shifted your gaze downward as Clint spoke, your eyes focusing on your hands. The intertwining of your fingers against your lap captivated your attention, a silent witness to the aftermath of the adrenaline that had coursed through your veins. The weight of the events from the previous night settled on your shoulders - the undeniable truth that you had taken a life. Whether intentional or not, the man’s family would never see his smile again. Hear his voice. Feel the joy of her laughter. Experience the warmth in the pit of your stomach when she brings your face between her hands to guide your lips to hers…

You quickly realized your thoughts were veering off-topic.

Clint, silent beside you, kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Fatigue and defeat etched across his face. While you were grappling with the loss of Natasha, you acknowledged that he, too, was deeply affected. His ability to tuck away his emotions surpassed yours, and it struck you as unfair that he consistently played the role of a life buoy, keeping you afloat when he, too, needed support. He witnessed his best friend’s death, and there lingered an undeniable sense that he bore a burden of guilt, a weight he concealed with practiced skill.

Speak up. Say anything. Apologize. Let him know he’s not alone. It was your turn to be the buoy…

You turned your head to peer out the window when words failed you.

The entire inside of your body seemed to freeze when the face of the life you had taken flashed before your eyes, standing on the side of the road as he watched you drive by. You quickly averted your gaze back to the windshield, a tight pressure forming in your chest, mirroring the grip on the handle above you. Despite your efforts to push that haunting moment from your mind, it persistently crept back, an unwelcome ghost.

An engineer by trade, you had always remained indoors, immersed in creating your next ingenious invention while professionals like Natasha and Clint dealt with the harsh realities of the world outside. The field was foreign to you, just as this feeling.

“Clint?” Your voice, soft and warm, broke the silence in the vehicle. He didn’t respond with words, but a low hum conveyed that he heard you. “You’ve taken lives before, haven’t you?” In your peripheral vision, you sensed his head move, but nervousness held you back from meeting his gaze, even briefly, as he returned his attention to the road. “How did you cope with your first kill?”

For a moment, there was only the hum of the engine and the faint whistle of the wind against the windows. You wondered if he was ignoring you, if the question was too much, too personal. Maybe it was cruel to ask him something like that - like pulling open an old wound just to see how deep it really went.

Then, he exhaled, long and slow. “You don’t,” he said finally. His voice was even, but there was a weight to it, something heavy and worn. “You don’t get over it. You just learn to live with it.”

Your fingers curled into your lap. That wasn’t the answer you wanted.

“But what if I can’t?” You didn’t mean to sound so small, but the words left you in a whisper.

Clint let the silence stretch between you, and when he spoke again, it was quieter, “Then you find a way. Or it eats you alive.”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle deep in your bones. The ghost of last night still clung to you, the blood on your hands something you could still feel even though… there wasn’t technically any blood.

“Was it always like that for you?”

This time, Clint hesitated. “No.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to glance at him. His jaw was tight, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.

“But it got easier?” you asked.

He let out a humorless breath. “No. You just get used to carrying it.”

That terrified you more than anything.

You turned your gaze back to your lap, your fingers twisting together as if you could wring the unease from your body. The thought of carrying this weight forever - of never truly letting it go - made your chest tighten. You weren’t built for this. You weren’t like Clint, like Natasha, like any of them. You were just a damn engineer, someone who made things to help people - not to kill them.

And yet, here you were.

The car rolled to a stop at a red light, the rhythmic click of the turn signal filling the silence between you. You could feel Clint’s gaze flicker toward you, his quiet observation pressing against the side of your face like a weight you refused to acknowledge.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked.

Your fingers curled in your lap, nails pressing into your palms.

“Talk to him, Y/N,” Natasha’s voice ghosted through your mind, soft yet firm, like a steady hand on your shoulder. You didn’t turn around. You didn’t have to. She was there, in the hollow of your chest, in the spaces between each ragged breath.

She was right.

But the words wouldn’t come.

You shook your head, barely moving. “No.”

Clint didn’t argue. He just nodded, his hands tightening slightly on the wheel before he turned back to the road.

The light changed. The car surged forward.

The road ahead stretched long and empty, but your mind was still trapped in that moment - frozen in the deafening stillness that followed the shot. The weight of the bracelets on your wrists. The final exhale of a life you could never take back. The way his body crumpled, like a marionette with its strings severed.

You swallowed hard, nausea curling deep in your stomach.

Clint must have noticed because he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look… I don’t have the right words to make this easier for you,” he admitted. “I wish I did.”

You clenched your jaw. “It’s not your job to fix me.”

“No,” he agreed, “but it’s my job to make sure you don’t drown.”

You turned towards the window, your reflection faint in the glass, eye shadowed and hollow. “You don’t have to do that,” you murmured.

He let out a breath, a little wry, a little sad. “Yeah,” he said, “I do.”

And the worst part?

You believed him.

A sharp exhale left you, but it did nothing to loosen the tangled mess inside your head. Your thoughts crackled and sparked, a mess of wires threatening to short-circuit entirely. You had to talk. You had to let this out before it swallowed you whole. But how the hell do you open up about something like this?

You stared down at your lap, at the way your fingers twisted together, as if trying to hold yourself by sheer force. The words were right there, burning the back of your throat, but every time you tried to pull them free, they tangled - knotted tight with guilt, fear, regret.

Clint didn’t push. He just drove, steady and silent, his presence a quiet anchor. But the weight of unspoken things sat between you, thick and suffocating, like even the air was waiting for you to break.

“Just say something, Y/N,” Natasha’s voice whispered, gentle but insistent. “Anything.”

You closed your eyes, willing the world to slow down, to make sense. But it didn’t. It never did. Not anymore.

Clint’s voice cut through the silence, calm and even. “Start anywhere,” he said. “Doesn’t have to make sense.”

Your grip tightened, knuckles aching. The car felt too small, too suffocating. Your lungs felt full of smoke, your heart pounding against the weight of something too bit to hold.

A breath, sharp and unsteady, left you.

And then, barely more than a whisper—

“I messed up, Clint…”

Chapter 3

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