It was hard. Seeing Clint like this, knowing how damaged he was, was so very hard, but Natasha wasn’t ready yet to accept that it was irreversible.

“I don’t believe that,” she said, squeezing his hand. She couldn’t believe it. She knew that there was more to him, that the man she trusted and loved was still in there. “I have seen men consumed by fear and anger, and men like those would not have bought me flowers.” She smiled softly at him. “And they would not be here today, trying to get themselves back.”