study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

"Then find out what you want, Nat, please. There's two weeks left for that."

Clint's voice was still too quiet and stripped off emotion. If he allowed himself to feel right now, he'd be already gone, away from her for hours or days, before she could see him fall apart. He couldn't do that. For as long as he somehow managed it, he had to keep it together.

Especially when she was the one failing at it, when he could hear her falter, see the emotion stir in her eyes and just prayed that she would last for another few minutes. He still had to get her home somehow. His own hand felt detached from his body, like a stranger pulling strings, when he placed it on her cheek, just holding her, trying to tell her he got it, when she came to the core of the problem.

Or was it? He could have told her it wasn't. Difficult but not impossible. If she really decided to want a kid someday, it actually seemed they had a pretty good shot, at least with some doctor's help.

That wasn't the real question, not for him. For him, it was wondering if she would be any more ready in a few more years. If he would be ready, that really was secondary. It couldn't matter, he couldn't allow it to matter. If he let himself think about it, he couldn't get her through these two weeks.

He couldn't be the one to influence this so very fucking important decision for her. What if it was her only chance? Then he wouldn't be the asshole to spoil it for her, no matter how he felt about it.

"That's all that matters to me, Nat. What you want to do. I'll be with you either way."

Edited 2014-06-19 09:21 (UTC)

His words irritated her. She knew she had a deadline, she knew she had to figure this out, and if his only contribution to the whole situation was to remind her of that then she wished she would have gone in alone. He kept pushing her to decide if she wanted this baby, but what about him? Did he not care either way?

She knew that wasn’t true, she knew it was just her fear and confusion talking. She had held him while he cried yesterday, had watched him let his anger out in the basement; the last thing she could ever accuse Clint of was not caring. She recognized the signs, that emotional detachment, as that was how she had been dealing with this so far.

It seemed one of them always had to act strong and swallow their emotions. That wasn’t exactly healthy.

His touch was cold, unfeeling, but she leaned into it anyway and closed her eyes. They would never get through this if she kept looking for reasons to lash out at him, to take out all her frustrations on the one person who loved her above everything else. That was what this was about for him.

He could see the change in her eyes and flinched, steeled himself for the inevitable. Of course she would be angry. He wasn't exactly being helpful right now.

But she didn't say it, she answered his touch with the same helpless, stiff shyness, and he probably shouldn't be as relieved as he was. Maybe it was better if she screamed at him, forced him to talk, asked him again just, like he had asked her, now that the tables had suddenly turned so much. Then there would have been no running anymore.

It was much too convenient, concentrating only on caressing her face, pull her close to him with his free arm, rest his forehead against hers in desperate attempts to be close to her, be the support she needed, when really he felt like free falling with no ground in sight.

"We should be going home. I'll fix us breakfast or something."

But he made no move to do so, in fact his voice trailed off into nowhere just like hers before. Go home to do what? Sit around and stare at each other for two weeks in silence? Two more weeks of breaking stuff and depressing himself in the training room? He could try that damn fitness station and lift some shit until he tore a few muscles and had to stop pretending, he was in control. He never had felt less like it.

His arm around Natasha's waist tightened, his head came to rest heavily on her shoulder.

"I don't know how to do this, Nat."

He wasn't even sure what he was talking about. Probably everything.

She wasn’t so keen to return to the house either, but what else could they do? Go sit at the beach and watch the happy families? Have breakfast as a little café and pretend everything was okay? It wasn’t, and she wasn’t sure when it could be again.

Two weeks. Two weeks to make one of the most important decisions of her life. It simultaneously didn’t’ sound like enough time and like far too much time. Too much, she decided. She had to make this decision today or it would eat them both alive. She couldn’t drag it out, couldn’t live like this for two weeks.

She let herself be pulled closer and tried to relax in his arms, but she was still too keyed up. She needed time to think, time alone. She wouldn’t shut him out, but she needed to really centre herself and consider every option.

When he leaned into her more she let out a breath and finally wrapped on arm around him, her other hand softly caressing his neck. They both needed to feel this, both needed to let each other see it. They couldn’t hide, they needed each other, but they had to approach this honestly.

Thinking of the paper in her pocket she knew she was already breaking that. She would deal with that later, though.

“Together,” she said after a moment. “How we do everything.” Everything that mattered, at least, and this definitely mattered.

“I’ll drive,” she offered. “It will give me something to focus on.” She had driven in worse situations and made it out alive. She could do this.

Clint sighed a short breath of relief at her offer. Sure, they could have taken a cab. But then he still would have had to get that car back at some point and leave her alone when she wasn't feeling well already. Also, it wasn't like he didn't trust his fellow citizens, really, but he certainly wasn't in a mood to deal with a stolen, leased car at the moment. And even more, it was good to hear that Natasha felt at least good enough to drive again.

They would go home and then they could talk and... Talk about what? There was still nothing he could tell her, should tell her because he didn't have the right to, even if he would have a clue what he felt. Or would have allowed himself to find out.

Before he could fall into brooding mode again, he just nodded shortly and forced himself to stand up. He was too lost in thought to remember that he wasn't exactly running on a sugar high and the shock from the hospital had pretty much drained what fluid he had had in his body. He growled at himself shortly, when he stumbled for a moment and went on like nothing happened, with Natasha's hand still in his.

Together, she had said. They always fought through everything together that was in their way. And they had always come out on top. Why should it be different this time?

Because they were not fighting this time, that unnerving nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him. This wasn't something he could shoot or a bullet he could take for her and Natasha couldn't punch their way free this time. This... they had to decide, to build and to keep. To protect, forever, and how could Natasha expect from a train wreck like him to be ready for that? He would fuck up, he always fucked up eventually...

His heart was already beating unhealthily fast again, too loud in his ears, and from the way the sun burned on his skin he knew, he should probably remember how to breathe again. But his mind had taken another of these leaps off into nowhere while he just followed Natasha without even looking where they were going. It would be okay, she had said that they would do this together, she would stay with him... But whatever it was that she would want to do, Clint had no idea what to be more afraid of.

Natasha noted his stumble and instinctively her hand shot out to catch him, to steady him, but she didn’t mention it otherwise. Still cradling her now lukewarm tea, she led him back to the car and handed him the bottle of water he had brought with this morning. “It’s probably warm as piss but it’s wet,” she said, taking another sip of her tea before setting it in the cupholder. She didn’t encourage him any further to drink the water, just set her sights on getting them back home.

Home, huh.

She brushed off the thought before it could settle and drove. The mechanical function, shifting gears and scanning the road for obstructions or surprises, occupied her mind fairly well. She had always been good at pushing her thoughts and emotions away to focus on a task, and before long they were pulling into the drive outside of the house. Stepping out of the car, Natasha smiled when Liho seemed to materialize out of nowhere to greet them.

“You can’t be back for more food,” she said. “I do hope you’re not only here to eat.”

Scooping the kitten up in her hand she was pleased to see that all of Clint’s hard work from yesterday wasn’t for naught as Liho hadn’t done too badly keeping herself clean. “I’ll just be a few minutes,” she said to Clint, hoping he understood she needed a moment alone and wasn’t trying to avoid him. “Please, drink some more water.”

Giving him a pointed look she went inside the house and straight to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Water, right. Clint couldn't remember much of the drive but he was still pretty good with things he was told to do. So he followed Natasha in the house and closed the door behind them, not even wondering anymore that she took their little visitor with her. Well, at least Liho was clean by now.

What was left in that one bottle was indeed disgustingly warm, so he stored it in the fridge and got himself a new one. It was one of the last, so he got a new pack from the store room and refilled the fridge. They would have to go for a few new packs again, he thought dully.

With the new, unopened bottle held against his temple he tried to fight what already felt like a killer headache, without much success. He drank slowly because brain freeze wouldn't make that much better but eventually he got the bottle empty and felt at least a little clearer. The lingering panic from the car ride was still crawling under his skin but he fought it back with pure will power.

Better to concentrate on getting something edible for Natasha on a plate. Already reaching for the oranges, Clint remembered her reaction to sour fruit yesterday and cut a banana and a few plums into a bowl instead, drowning both in a good deal of plain yogurt, cereals and honey. Sweet and crunchy stuff was okay, right? He had no idea and probably should have asked her, but his ability to speech had gone on holiday again. Also, it was obvious she wanted to be alone.

He took the bowl with him to the sofa and left it on the table while he crouched in the corner himself, with his legs hanging over the side rest. It was a nice spot to hide his face in the sofa corner, close his eyes for a while and try to come up with a plan. His brain was an asshole as usual. It insisted on showing him the memory of Natasha in that damn white gown today, so small, so helpless, so scared looking.

And the damn scanner on her belly, the doctor scanning this... the... the fetus inside, the baby. Maybe he should have looked at that screen after all. It would have made it easier if Natasha changed her mind, after the news they had got today. It also would have made it hell if she still wanted to stop this madness. It would hurt even more if she didn't and then something happened to that... to their baby...

His fingertips started to hurt from how hard he clutched that damn sofa edge, and that tightness in his chest was back. He had no plan, he had nothing he could tell Natasha, not this time. He couldn't even think about all this without feeling like screaming. This wasn't supposed to happen, this hadn't been in the books for them. He had just wanted to make her happy and to be happy with her, just a little piece of a nice normal life like other people had it.

Other people have kids all the time, you know. I heard that's a thing.

Great, on top of everything now he had a bad Tony Stark imitation in his head. Unfortunately knocking his forehead against the cushioning didn't help get rid of it. Not hard enough for that. Maybe he should open a bottle of whiskey after all.

Once inside the washroom, the door a protective barrier between her and the world, she stood for a moment just staring around like this was some alien place she didn’t recognize. It wasn’t until Liho mewled and squirmed in her hand that Natasha shook herself out of that lost stupor.

Two weeks. She couldn’t take two full weeks, she would go crazy. She had to decide, and she had to do so with eyes completely open.

Removing the paper from her pocket she sat on the floor and crossed her legs, leaning her back against the side of the large tub. Setting Liho in her lap, she watched the kitten a minute as it turned around, digging claws in here and there, before settling down. If only everything was that easy.

Natasha had seen many horrible things in her life and she had thought that the Hulk had been the most terrified but she was wrong. This piece of paper, the image it contained, was worse.

“I know, I’m being silly,” she said when she looked down to find Liho watching her curiously. “It’s too soon. It won’t look like anything.” Closing her eyes she took a deep breath and unfolded it. “Just like a bandaid,” she said, trying to just do it quick and get it over with. “It’s stupid. Nothing.”

She opened her eyes.

The printout from the ultrasound was grainy and unclear, and while she couldn’t make out a lot, she could see the outline of a tiny head and body.

The breath she sucked in was painful and sharp and she wanted to close her eyes, to crumple up the paper and throw it away, but she forced herself to keep looking, to study it. She had so much blood on her hands, she was the harbinger of death, but there, in that picture, was life. How many people had she taken out of the world in her short lifetime? This was her chance to bring one into it, to give life instead of take it.

Staring at that creased and grainy picture she felt something inside of her break and finally she let herself cry.

Clint was on his feet before his brain hadn't even caught up with his senses. There had been some whining going on in the bathroom, he remembered vaguely, and first he had thought, Natasha just tried to bath Liho again or something. But now these noises didn't sound cat like at all anymore.

That evil doubtful voice inside asked him if he really wanted to go in there, fully knowing that he would feel only worse then. But that voice he could kick in the balls easily and tell it to piss off, and boy, did that feel good. Natasha was feeling miserable, it finally had all become too much for her, so he had to help. Period.

He startled a little when he saw her sitting on the floor, fearing that she had collapsed and he hadn't even realized it, but she didn't really look sick, not as much as in the morning. Only lost.

He dropped to his knees to wrap his arm around her shoulder and realized with half an eye that Liho fled from Natasha's lap. Right now he couldn't even be pissed that she couldn't stand him. He couldn't stand himself right now.

"Nat, I'm here. It's okay, I'm here. I'm sorry..."

He didn't know what exactly he was apologizing for - then again he had fucked up in the last few days and months - but both his voice and his soothingly caressing hand on her shoulder froze when he spotted something black-and-white between her fingers. He tried to look away immediately when he understood, he really did, but something kept on pulling his head down, forced his eyes open. So much for being rational.

The voice in his head still screamed at him to get up and run while there was still time, when he reached for that photo with a heavy trembling hand to take a closer look. It had met a tear or two from Natasha's eyes but it was still perfectly clear what it showed.

All these things he had been trying to tell himself since yesterday to help Natasha with this, crashed down on him with one shaky, hoarse gasp for breath. And he realized, without surprise, that he had indeed no plan for this mission at all. No orders, no trained mindset, nothing to excuse a bad conscience. None of this. He held the mission in his hands and it was nothing they could execute, file and forget.

"This is a baby", he heard himself say, stupidly and awkwardly and confused, and fucking hell, how was he supposed to handle this? He looked up at Natasha, desperately hoping that she had anything to say, anything at all. "I mean... This is our baby, right?"

It didn't feel any better, any more comforting once it was finally out of his mouth like a poisoned apple he had been chewing on. Just more real. And even more terrifying. There was a baby, they really had made a baby together. Natasha was pregnant, she could have his child... A miracle if there ever had been one, and here she was stuck with the greatest train wreck on the planet.

What now, Barton?

Edited 2014-06-19 18:39 (UTC)

This house had the thinest walls in existence, Natasha was sure of it. He wasn’t supposed to hear her, but then what had she really planned on doing if he didn’t? She couldn’t stay in here forever, and the second he looked at her he would have seen she had been crying. She was being irrational, this whole situation made her irrational, and she thought she hated that more than anything.

She wasn’t sure why he was apologizing and she didn’t care. Leaning into his embrace she tried to lose herself in his warmth and comfort, but when he suddenly stiffened she knew something was wrong. That was when she felt him gently tug the picture in her hand so he could get a better look.

Shit.

He wasn’t supposed to see it, she had made sure that he didn’t even know she had it, but it was too late to snatch it away now, too late to keep him from looking. She tried to breathe, tried to form even a few words, but he spoke before she could and his words were like a punch to the stomach. It was one thing to truly realise it herself, but to hear him say it aloud, to hear him confirm it, made it all too real.

Nodding at the question she choked down another sob as she forced herself to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, I had to see it,” she rushed out quickly. “I had to know. If I was going to get rid of it I had to see it, had to face it.” Don’t go into an op without all the information, don’t make a decision without knowing as much as you can. That’s how they were trained, right?

Her words made him wince, startle just the slightest bit, and still he was glad she was saying it. They had been dancing around the subject long enough. This was a problem, and if they couldn't handle it, they had to get rid of it. As cruel as it sounded, that was what they were planning. And if they kept running from it, trying to fool themselves, it would only make the nightmares so much worse.

He really couldn't be mad at her for doing this though he kind of wished, she would have told him. Then again, maybe he had needed that cold shower, before he really could have ended up somewhere on Mount Etna with a bottle in his hand.

"I know."

It sounded very tiny and tired. He placed the photo back on her hand to let her know it was okay and wrapped his fingers around hers then, holding her close to him, softly rocking her in a manner of comfort he couldn't feel himself.

This was terrible, it hurt even more than he had expected, and looking away from the damn picture didn't help. He would always remember how it had looked from now on. He would be dreaming of this damn thing, and in his dreams he would wonder how it would have looked if the baby had been older, how it would have looked when it was born...

Stop it, stop it, you stupid fuck, right now.

But he couldn't stop it. His brain had finally caught up with the facts after lying to himself for long days, and now he couldn't stop thinking about it how it would be if they had a baby. It was the worst idea of the century. He was dooming this child just by thinking about it, he was being a shitty father before it was even born, but he couldn't stop thinking about it.

Natasha's hair got wet a little from where he nuzzled his cheek against her, silent, lost tears that he could stop just as little as his brain from working. Why couldn't they just be happy for once?

Wrapping her arm around him, she buried her face against his chest and just held him tightly. His heart was racing, his breathing not quite steady, but he was still there, still offering what support and comfort he could. He always did; no matter what he was always there for her, always put her first. He was her partner, her lover, her best friend, and the most important person in her life. She would do anything for him, and she knew he would do the same for her, but there had to be a limit, and this just might be it. She knew he would support any decision she made, but he had yet to give her a real opinion on any of this, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that he might resent her whatever she did.

And just what was she going to do? It had seemed so cut and dry yesterday. Of course it had still hurt, but she hadn’t seen another option, but now there was, now there was the chance of bringing life into this world. Could she really give that up? But what if she did decide to keep it but ended up losing it? She wouldn’t say she couldn’t go through that again, she could get through anything, it was how she was made, but it would be difficult, and she would lose another little piece of herself along with it, a piece of hope and normalcy. It would be easier to end it now, to remove the risk entirely, to keep control over it all.

It was the right decision, for them and for the lives they led and for the baby growing inside of her, but when she thought of it, thought of the picture, the decision felt completely wrong.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she said after a moment, her voice raw with emotion.

He didn't ask her what she meant, though at this point it could be really anything. He didn't tell her that he was there for her, either, because he had already told her and just had to trust that she knew at this point. In fact he wasn't really aware that he was about to say anything, until he heard his own voice and startled at the sound of it in the too quiet room.

"You can do anything, Nat. You're the strongest person I know."

And it was true. She had pulled through and often dragged him along with her when he had been at the point of breaking. She had made it out of the horrors that had been her early life with her sanity intact, and they were living at least something close to a normal life by now.

Or had, until yesterday. Now everything had changed.

Or had it? As terrible as all of this was, this at least was something countless other people went through on a daily base. Heck, they had seen the end of the world coming and defied it and still were here. They would get through this, somehow, no matter how fucking much it hurt right now.

But that was the point, they had to do it together. He couldn't leave her alone with this, just because he was afraid of the pain. He had to try at least, even if it would end bad for him as it always did.

"I don't know what to tell you, Nat."

He took her chin to turn her head, make her look at him, at his tears, his complete loss at what to think, to do. He had to let her see him raw if they were to come to a decision they could both live with.

"I've never been so afraid in my entire life. I'm afraid that you'll get hurt and I'm afraid of what will be if it all works out. I don't know what's worse at this point, I really don't. But I can get through this all with you, that's what I know. Because I love you, you know?"

He rested his forehead against hers again, tiredly, after his lips brushed hers for nothing more than a tender fleeting touch.

"I love you so fucking much, Natasha."

His didn’t interpret her meaning right, he didn’t get what she was referring to, and for now maybe that was okay. There would be chance to clarify later once she’d calmed down and gotten herself under control again.

When he made her look at him she could see nothing but truth in his eyes. He was as lost as she was, and just as emotional. Whatever they decided would be hard on both of them, and she appreciated that he let her in like this instead of just trying to be strong for her. There was a time and place for that, but now honesty was more important.

His words made her heart positively swell with love and appreciation and guilt that she was putting him through this. She would never want to do it without him, though. She could, and maybe in ways it would be easier, but she didn’t want to, not for a moment.

“I love you too,” she replied, her voice still choked and hoarse. “More than anything.”

Taking a shuddering breath she forced her eyes open again, cupping his cheeks and using her thumbs to brush away his tears. She kissed him briefly, just pressing her lips to his once, twice, a third time. His lips tasted of salt, or maybe it was her own. It didn’t matter.

Her touch and her words, that was just what it took to calm down at least for the moment. There would be plenty of more crying to do. Nothing had been solved and depending on what they decided, this state of fear and uncertainty could last for another six months. A thought that had Clint shudder and quickly shove it away for later. At least for the moment they were alright. Maybe because they knew and had decided to face it, just like everything else in their lives.

Natasha's lips were dry and her skin red from crying, so he decided to take care of that first. Much other than making it comfortable for her and be her shoulder as soon as she needed it wasn't in his power right now. He pulled her up carefully and helped her sit on the tub edge, then he soaked a washing clothe with lukewarm water and gently placed it against her cheeks to cool them.

"I've made you something", he murmured, hesitating, not sure how her stomach was doing right now. "How about a small bite? And then we can sit on the balcony for a while if you like."

She let him help her up, and while he got the washcloth she carefully folded the now wrinkled and damp picture and stowed it away in her pocket once more. She kept her eyes on him as he took care of her, his touch gentle and comforting. He always knew exactly what she needed, and while she knew he needed just as much care right now she let him do as he wished. If taking care of her helped him at all then she wouldn’t deprive him of that.

“Only if you eat something too,” she replied, and though her voice was still quiet and strained it had regained that certain edge that left little room for argument. “You usually eat twice as much as me and you haven’t eaten anything for almost two days. I’m going to need you to be strong, and you can’t do that if you starve yourself.”

If she laid it out like that, told him she needed his strength, then maybe he would be more apt to agree, to try.

"I'm not..."

Clint already started to argue but cut himself short with a sigh then. It was true, though, he simply wasn't feeling hungry. He had gone longer times with eating less in the past when the disaster that was his life had been at one of its lowest points. Admittedly, these also had been the phases when he had been drunk off his ass every night. Beer and wine did contain at least some nutrition, no matter how unhealthy. It wouldn't do Natasha any good if he collapsed at her feet anytime soon.

"Time to use the eggs anyway before they get spoiled", he murmured, resigned and without much enthusiasm. He would just drown a fried egg in a ton of ketchup, that would help get everything down.

"Come on, let's get a little more comfortable."

Still carefully, gently, he helped Natasha up and lead the way but stopped still in the door with a half amused, half annoyed snort.

"Um... I hope you like eggs too."

Probably he should be glad that they hadn't spent too much time completely paralyzed and blind to their surroundings in the bathroom. Or Liho would probably already have destroyed half of the living room instead of sitting in front of Natasha's half empty breakfast bowl and licking jogurt off her whiskers.

When Clint started to argue Natasha merely raised her eyebrow at him and he quickly trailed off. She knew they had both been in worse physical situations before, having to hole up somewhere with no food or water until the coast was clear to escape, but this situation wasn’t like that. This wasn’t life or death, but somehow it felt just as important. If they were going to make the right decision then they couldn’t add more elements in that would confuse the situation.

Even if she was quite sure she knew what she had to do at this point.

She knew he didn’t appreciate the pushing but she gave him a soft smile and squeezed his hand when he agreed to eat something, at least. Eggs actually sounded pretty good right now. Scrambled up they were pretty bland and easy on the stomach, and probably a lot healthier than more toast.

Sliding her arm around his waist as they exited the washroom, she was confused a moment when they stopped abruptly, but the sight that greeted her earned a surprise laugh. She had forgotten all about the kitten, and clearly Clint had too. No wonder it had been so quiet these past few minutes.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha said to Clint, hugging his waist a little tighter a moment before approaching Liho. “The food looked good, if it’s any consolation.” Liho tried to escape but Natasha managed to catch her and hoist her up. “You keep making messes like this and we won’t let you back inside.”

"Well, thanks. I'll try again tomorrow."

Clint didn't really think the situation as funny, or well, maybe it was, but if they both laughed now, Liho would think for the rest of her life that eating their food was a big joke. So he fought that smile on his lips and rather reached out for the bowl to carry it away - Liho had definitely had enough for now - when he had a better idea.

"Just keep her for a moment, red. She has to take her meds anyway."

He quickly went to the kitchen, realizing with half a thought that he should be finally putting that cat stuff somewhere else and got one of the pills for anthelmintic therapy he had bought. He hadn't been sure how to feed them to the little one without becoming the object of hate even more, but seeing her with that damn yogurt had triggered a faint memory.

"Had a pretty bad flu once when I was a toddler", he explained when he returned, bravely pushing away any associations with kids he didn't need in his head right now. "That's how my mother got them damn meds into me."

He bathed the small pill carefully in the yogurt and a little honey and held his finger out to Liho then. For a moment he was sure, she wouldn't give in, that she still hated his guts too much to accept food. But then she started licking his skin and he used the chance to slip the pill in her tiny mouth. She fought a little but he somehow made it to keep her mouth closed until she swallowed it. 1:0 for the house of Barton.

"See? Much better. Want to have a reward? Sure you do."

With a stupid grin, he dipped his finger into the yogurt again and held it out to the kitten until it overcame its new grudge and licked it off again.

"Good girl."

Clint finally grabbed that bowl before he could become weak once more and carried it to the kitchen to start cooking. Keeping himself busy always helped.

"Eggs coming up in 10 minutes."

Natasha held the kitten in her arms, scratching it lightly under the chin, while Clint went about getting its medicine ready. She knew they were probably giving it positive reenforcement for doing a bad thing, but she didn’t have it in her right now to scold the poor thing. She felt like an emotional basket case, something she was determined to blame on hormones, but if she had to be harsh right now and Liho gave her that wounded look she knew she was capable of then Natasha was sure she would just start crying.

“It’s certainly easier to stomach that way,” she said when Clint returned with the yogurt covered pill. She didn’t need to state how she had to take medication as a child. Maybe once, long ago, there had been pills covered in yogurt, but she barely remembered her life with her parents, and after that she had to take whatever she was given, as she wouldn’t like the consequences if she didn’t.

Liho struggled in her arms a bit but Clint held her mouth firm until she had to swallow. Of course he received a dirty look from the kitten after that, but he knew how to win her back and Natasha felt that twisting in her heart again at the grin on his face. As much as he had put on that he didn’t want the cat, any little bit of affection he got from it seemed to make him stupidly happy.

Watching him move back to the kitchen, she couldn’t help but think of how he would act with a little boy or girl, and the conclusion she came up with was that he would be an amazing father.

“I think you’ve had enough to eat now. We should probably let you back outside,” she said to Liho but the kitten nuzzled against her, clearly not quite ready to leave. “Okay, just a few more minutes, but then you’re out so we can eat in peace.”

Clint was tempted to sneak a few bacon or ham bits into Natasha's eggs to make sure she got strength back, but as long as her stomach was giving her a hard time, he couldn't risk it. Also, she'd have his balls for it and even sick she was still very capable of doing that.

So scrambled eggs it was for her and he made at least sure to spice it as interesting as possible. His own stuff was far easier to make, like crack that egg over a pan, slide it around a few times, splash it onto the next plate and drop ketchup on the whole thing. It wouldn't win a beauty price but he thought he could get at least most of it down his throat.

When he carried the plates next door, Natasha still had little one on her arms, a picture that hurt today, as ridiculous as it was. It was far too easy to picture her with another tiny bundle of life on her arms. Imagine how she would give all this love and care she treated him with to another human being, a kid that would be just like her, beautiful and strong, and if he didn't get his brain to shut up immediately, he'd end up kicking things again.

"I tried." He held Natasha's plate up shortly but didn't put it down on the sofa table as long as the kitten was in the house. He definitely had learned that lesson.

Clint was very lucky he didn’t try to mess with her food. She would know, and while she could appreciate his tendency to worry, she would not appreciate him trying to push her, especially while not doing the same to himself.

Lost in her own thoughts, Natasha looked up at the sound of his voice and gave him a soft smile. “Time’s up,” she said, giving Liho one last little scratch before carrying the kitten to the door. “Maybe you can come back in later,” she stage whispered as she set the kitten down on the stoop and reluctantly shut the door again. Heading back to the kitchen, she washed her hands in the sink before grabbing two bottles of water and joining Clint in the living room. “A few days and she’s already spoiled.”

"Well, I don't sign responsible for that. I'm the one she loves to scratch."

Clint thankfully took that bottle from Natasha because drinking was still easier than getting something solid in his stomach. But he had promised her so he sat down at the table with her and shoved down what was on his plate without much fuss. This time it at least tasted like ash with a hint of tomato. Maybe he should just stick with ketchup for the next two weeks.

With the kitten gone it was too soon too quiet again. Not because they had nothing to say to each other but because there was too much. Too much too heavy on their shoulders. Silencing it and hoping that the solution would fall from heaven wouldn't do it. Sure, they could sit on the balcony like yesterday, and he would be with her if that was what she wanted... But somehow Clint felt that wouldn't get them very far.

He waited until Natasha was finished eating before he reached out for her hand, speaking quietly, hesitating, because he just had no clue what was going on in her head right now. She seemed to have calmed down a bit but that could as well change any second.

"Tell me what you feel like doing, red? Do you need to be alone for a while? Or should we try enjoy the sun for a while?"

The eggs were actually quite palatable, the texture making them easier to stomach. Seeing Clint actually clean his plate as well helped, and Natasha made sure to do the same. If they ate little else all day at least they had something in their stomachs.

The meal passed in heavy silence but she couldn’t bring herself to break it. What could she say at this point? She needed more time to think it all over, to run through every possible scenario, but how could she tell Clint that she needed time alone right now?

Thankfully she didn’t have to. He was as lost as she was and not knowing what to do next he made the offer for her. “I think I need some time to myself,” she replied, giving him a grateful look and hoping the words wouldn’t hurt him.

He had asked her and her answer wasn't unexpected, so he didn't feel either much relief or disappointment. Maybe Natasha could do what he couldn't, maybe she could sort her thoughts in a way that would help them make this decision, without the panic and helplessness that blocked his own mind from getting a grip on this.

"Okay."

Clint gently pulled her hand closer and pressed his lips to her knuckles for a long moment. He was there, always, as long as she kept that in mind, he could go for a few hours without worrying his head off.

"I'll be downstairs if you need me."

For a split second he had considered going on that run he longed for, but as long as Natasha physically didn't feel right, he didn't like the idea of leaving her alone. Even if he took his phone with him... On the top of a volcano, busy inhaling sulfur, he was of no use to her when she needed help.

He brought the plates into the kitchen and took a second to change into the pair of track pants he had brought for exactly this purpose and went down to the cellar then, armed with two bottles of water and towels. The fitness station was as clean as could be, Angelina was as thorough as always. Just the hinges needed help from the bottle of grease from his working table, before he could get started.

He finally collected his weapons while he was on it, just thinking shortly about working on that damn arrow head once more, but he knew, he'd just end up trying to shoot it. He had no idea what he needed right now, but falling into another depression because he couldn't handle his weapon anymore, probably wasn't on top of that list.

Stretching, pressing and lifting it was then, which was more than anything a good indicator about how he felt and how badly he needed distraction. There was hardly anything Clint hated more than working out. Today he didn't even mind that.

He tried to start low, he really did, knowing he wasn't doing himself any favor in pulling stupid stunts. But the harmless weights and exercises just didn't cut it. Only when the movements went form boring to strain and sweat began to soak his shirt, the thoughts in his head finally began to shut up. There was a comforting burn pulsating from his shoulders all the way down already, and when he started working that damn bench with his legs like it had personally offended him in some way, blissful empty shades of red settled in his brain.

He didn't stop to drink or catch his breath, he didn't pause, he merely sat up in between to adjust to a higher setting. It wasn't the empty headspace he enjoyed about handling his bow but it was enough.

Maybe he could work himself into complete exhaustion after all, all without booze or running through the summer heat. Everything was better right now than the memory of that damn ultrasound picture and knowing that this was most probably the only thing he would ever know about his own child.

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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