Hearing her say, she was with him, still, should have been a relief. It was, as was her touch that Clint pressed against tiredly, feeling even too drained to lift his head right now. It was comfort but not the usual reassurance and maybe that was better. Natasha was right, she couldn't save him from this, and he shouldn't lean on her even more than he already had. She wasn't the one to go this long way through a poisoned fog, back into a life that shone such a little light at the end of the tunnel right now.

But she could be that light. That point to orientate himself on, that most precious thing he didn't want to go without. That was all he could ask of her right now and it was already a lot.

"I just wish I wouldn't have to put this on you", he finally said, with his head still buried against his arms, in a still rough but at least steady voice. "I wanted to be strong for you, to not pull you down with me. Guess I've only achieved the opposite."

Finally, after wiping his too rough, to sensitive feeling cheeks on his arms, he brought himself to look at her. It hurt, he couldn't remember ever feeling so vulnerable, so weak in front of her, but he needed her to see that he was serious, that all her words and efforts hadn't been for nothing.

"But I'm thankful you're there anyway. No running anymore, promise."

He should have promised her more, that he was better now, that everything she had said was right and had just made the needed change in him... But he never made promises he couldn't keep to Natasha. He wanted to believe her, because it all sounded so very logical and calming, but he knew his own stubborn head well enough to be sure, it would be take time for all this to really sink in. For the moment, trying was all he could give her.