Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

[study_in_scarlet]

They didn’t get a lot of time off together, at least not enough to make a trip away worthwhile, so for this one weekend they decided to stay in the city and play tourist for the day.

They had started with a walk through Central Park before grabbing an early lunch at one of the city’s many street vendors and then wandering through the American Museum of Natural history. Natasha found the Hall of Minerals fascinating while Clint had gotten a kick out of all the dinosaur bones. They both enjoyed laying under the big blue whale with all the normal people.

Afterwards they went to a nice restaurant for supper, blending into the crowd of normal couples as best they could and Natasha actually forgot if she was playing a role or being herself as they finished their wine and shared their desserts.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely as they left the restaurant, stepping back into the cool night air. Nearby a busker played guitar and sang with surprising melody and soul, barely seeming to notice as people threw change into his open case, so caught up was he in his music.


Comments

[study_in_scarlet]

His tone was harsh but it was what she needed. Of course he didn’t blame her, he knew she didn’t want this any more than he did, and had she known there was even a possibility they would have been more careful.  She was being silly, yet when he held her closer she gladly accepted it.  Holding him close she tried to think of something further to say, but what could she say at this point?  It was something neither of them had expected, and something they had to think logically about and discuss.  It would probably be better to go home now and deal with it in the medical system she knew, but the flight would be horrendous, she would be sick the entire time, and what if they wanted identification?  She didn’t want anyone else to know, didn’t want to have to talk about it. 

Only reluctantly did Natasha let him go, and while a part of her thought it better to be out of his stiff embrace that lacked all the usual warmth and comfort, she instantly felt cold and alone without it.  Wrapping his sweater tighter around herself, she drew her feet up on to the sofa and wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging them to her chest.  She listened to him in the kitchen, every bang of a plate and chop of the knife going through her and making her wince. 

Why couldn’t they be normal?  Normal couples would be happy about the news, and there were some that would give almost anything for the chance that Natasha was throwing away, but it wasn’t that simple because her and Clint weren’t normal.  They were anything but.

Natasha watched him return, her stomach twisting at the sight of the food, but she did accept the bottle of water and took a small sip, barely enough to wet her throat.  Putting the cap back on she let it dangle from her fingers before turning her head sharply to look at him at his question.

Was he… was he looking for another option?  If she said yes, would he want to keep it?  Would he grow to hate her if she didn’t try?  If she did?  “No,” she answered, and as far as she knew it was the truth.  There would be complications, and eventually she would lose the baby, just like last time.  Her body would never carry it to term.

But then she hadn’t thought herself able to even conceive again either.  “It would be best to get this over with as soon as possible.”  Before either of them had time to start doubting the decision.

((Stealth email reply from work.  Hopefully formatting isnt' all messed up))

[farmboyhawk]

[nope, everything working fine. My poor feels :(]

**********

There was something in the way she looked at him when she answered, in her too fast, too determined voice. Clint knew, he shouldn't allow himself to realize and even less think about it. Not when she clearly didn't want to. Of what use would it be, starting to theorize now? Even if things weren't being quite so certain, now that she would have the right doctors around her helping her, and science far more development than when she had had her first child... In the end it would cause her just more pain if it didn't work out. And the hell he would do anything to be the reason for that.

"I'll get on the phone for you if you want, see if we can an appointment for a check up tomorrow."

He knew there were at least one or two gynecologists on that list Angelina had given him. He just hadn't been able to talk her out of the idea of a possible pregnancy- ironic enough, now that he thought about it. One of them would have to legalize the... the operation, from what he vaguely remembered. He'd been the shoulder to cry on for a former field partner whose girlfriend had gotten pregnant some years ago, and he didn't think, things would be much different in another civilized country nowadays.

They would have to get through this appointment and a loadshit of uncomfortable questions and then... Then they would get this done. Together. Get rid of the problem before it could even become one...

Something pulsated hard and painful in his stomach at his own thoughts and his tightly clutched hands in his lap began to tremble again. This wasn't a goddamn problem, this wasn't some unfortunate medical condition that Natasha had to heal from. This...

A painful hot breath gasp from his throat, from the strain of putting that train of thought right back where it belonged, far out of reach. He buried his face in his hands, elbows propped heavily on his knees, and pressed one thumb and forefinger forcefully against his closed eyes until it hurt. Just a moment to keep himself together, that was all. He was fine, he had to be, for her.

He felt his shoulder tremble, the strain in his hardly tensed legs, and clung on to all these sensations with his life while he recited every single paragraph of S.H.I.E.L.D. protocols he had ever remembered in his head. One by one, in four or five different languages in his head and back. Just to keep himself away from breaking under that lurking, dangerous realization what it was they were talking about here.

No choice, no way out, no use it wasting any of his energy on it. Not when Natasha needed that energy so much more right now.

But no matter how loudly he screamed stupid numbers and stiff phrases at himself in his head, his own voice couldn't be loud enough to drown that one doubtful, reproachful little whisper in the very back of his mind.

But what if there was a way?

[study_in_scarlet]

Clint was quick to agree, to offer to get the ball rolling as soon as possible, but Natasha could detect a note of hesitation there.  She ignored it.  “Thank you,” she said, accepting the offer.

They should probably tell Fury, let S.H.I.E.L.D. handle it in their proper medical facilities with all their state of the art equipment, but she didn’t want them to know, at least not until her annual physical, but even then any physical signs of the procedure would probably be hard to discern from those left by previous traumas.  No, they could take care of it here, maybe even within a few days, and then she could recover before even going back.

And ruin one more location in the world for him.  There aren’t that many left.

Why here?  Why now?  They had been so happy, had been making some real breakthroughs that she thought they could take back with them, some changes that would make their lives better and only strengthen their relationship, but now…

Startled by the sudden noise of distress, she looked over at Clint again as he buried his face in his hands.  No, please no, she silently begged him.  She could be strong if he was strong, if they could look at this clinically and leave their emotions out of it.  It was a mistake, something that should never have happened, and they would be righting that mistake.  She should never have been able to conceive in the first place, that was true, but carrying the baby to term would take a miracle.  And why was she even considering it?  They had both agreed that they didn’t want children.  Clint didn’t want to be a father, and Natasha… it had always been a moot point, so why waste time thinking about it?

She saw his shoulders tremble and she was torn between comforting him and pulling up a cold exterior.  Fortunately the former won out.  “We’ll get through this,” she said softly, laying her hand on his shoulder and rubbing it gently.  “I’m otherwise healthy so there should be no further issues.”  She knew that wasn’t the problem, though, but it was the one she could easily reassure him of.

[farmboyhawk]

It shouldn't hurt so much, but it did. The awkward way she was touching him, how they were both dancing around the subject as if that would change anything. Change what they were about to do.

They were holding up a facade for each other, barely, and weren't they long beyond that? Clint wasn't stupid enough to believe Natasha's distanced behavior for even a second. If he let her swallow it all down, bury it under just another layer inside, it would eat her up just as much as the rest of her past. Another nightmare to wake up to screaming and crying. He didn't want to be the reason for her crying, not if he could help it.

So he reached for her hand with his own still trembling instead of just standing up to get his phone, and pressed his too dry lips against it, holding it there. When he finally lowered his other hand from his lids, it was dry, but the remaining burn in his eyes let him know it wouldn't be for long. Even if he wanted, he couldn't play this role all the way through for her.

He needed to know and to work through what was happening, not push it away like it didn't really matter. He did that with most of his life, and that was what had left him a train wreck in the first place. He couldn't do this with Natasha. They needed to face this like one of their missions, head first, no matter how much it would cost.

"I need to know, Nat. I need... I have to be sure."

His voice came out strangled, colored by that ongoing fight he had with himself, about something that wasn't even a possibility. As far as they knew. Before he could even think about exploring or not if that knowledge maybe was outdated, he had to be certain about her mindset.

"Do you want this baby?"

Finally, with the last words he made it to look at her again, no matter how much it hurt, and though he had never been exactly a poet, this one most important question he chose very carefully. He didn't want to hear about if she could have it or not. And they had talked about wanting kids or not before. But not under these circumstances. Not when a comfortable why-even-think-about-it suddenly turned into a very real possibility.

[study_in_scarlet]

When he took her hand, Natasha didn’t know whether she wanted to snatch it away or squeeze his fingers comfortingly. She was confused and lost and while a part of her knew that the only way they were going to get through this was to talk about it and support each other, that instinct to hide, to put on a strong mask and do what needed to be done, was fighting for dominance.

Then he looked at her and she knew she was in trouble.

The sheer emotion in his eyes, the unshed tears waiting to be released... how could she lie to him when he was being so honest with her? Didn’t they say that there would be no more lies? She wanted to run, to do anything to prevent the words she knew were coming; if he didn’t ask she wouldn’t have to lie.

“Clint, please,” she pleaded, her voice barely a whisper, but he was already asking and it was too late.

His eyes froze her in place and for a moment she could only stare back at him before finally finding her voice. “I can’t.” Pulling her hand back and wrapping her arms around her legs again she shook her head. This time she didn’t mean physically, there was so much more to it, and he deserved an explanation. He deserved the truth, and if they were going to make this work then she had to be honest with him, otherwise whatever happened it would tear them apart.

“I can’t,” she said again, forcing herself to look at him. “If I let myself want it, and I lose it...”

It happened to other women every day. Some women suffered multiple miscarriages before finally getting the baby they wanted, but Natasha wasn’t sure she was strong enough for that. She had spent over a decade believing it wasn’t possible, and to let herself hope now, to let herself want... “It’s just easier this way.” Easier to not try, to not take that risk. But when had she ever taken the easier route before?

[farmboyhawk]

"If that's what you want, that's what we'll do."

Clint reached for her hand again, just holding it on her leg where she hugged herself, making it very clear with not only his words that he wouldn't leave her alone in this, not one second. And that it was her choice, whatever happened.

He could live with the uncertain pondering about what ifs, especially after all these years with the comfortable reassurance that he never would be a father. That he would never be even given the chance to fuck someone else's life up as his own father had. He had long accepted that and if Natasha didn't want that risk of a risky pregnancy, it was more of a relief than anything else.

But her answer still wasn't definite. And while it was enough for him to hold on to it, to make up his mind, because he didn't want her to get hurt... It was her who really needed to be sure. Her body, her loss she had already gone through once, and her decision to not put this onto herself once more. Still all this... didn't mean, she didn't want to. That was not what she had said.

"I just would hate to see you do something you regret later, Nat. I'll be with you every step of the way, okay? No matter what you do."

He leaned down to press his lips against her hand again, his cheek, close his eyes for another few moments and try to let her nearness, her touch calm the storm inside, the way she always could so easily. This time it didn't work.

"I'll go make these calls. Will you be okay for a while? I can go next door if you want. Just... Stay with me, please."

And goddamnit if his voice wasn't already starting to tremble again. He only meant for her to not run outside in the worst heat with her body already not being well, without him knowing where he could find her. Or maybe he meant something more. Right now he just knew that his heart broke everytime he looked at her and had to see her so crushed, and that he hated to leave her alone for even a second.

[study_in_scarlet]

Want. He kept using that word. Want. Was that what she wanted? She didn’t know. She didn’t know what she wanted, but it felt like the best option. No, it sounded like the best option. She didn’t know how it felt either.

“Thank you,” was all she managed to say. What else could she say right now? Would she regret this decision? Every day of her life. Would she regret not terminating the pregnancy? When she lost the baby then yes, every day of her life.

If, a traitorous voice whispered in her head. If she lost the baby. The chance was slim that she wouldn’t, but then it’s very existence at this point should have been impossible too. Maybe it was... what, meant to be? No, she didn’t believe in destiny. She believed in choice, in making her own path, her own life.

But what if this is the wrong choice?

She made no reaction to Clint’s touch, but nodded her head at his words. “You can stay. I’m just going to check on the cat,” she finally said. She knew he was worried, though, and she couldn’t leave it like that, it wasn’t fair to him. Unfolding herself from her scrunched up position, she placed her hand on one side of his face and softly pressed her lips to the other. “I'm with you."

[farmboyhawk]

Her touch, her kiss, it all was just as numb and cold as he still felt himself. He didn't want her to leave. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, cry on her shoulder for a bit, to kiss her and tell her that everything would be alright.

But he couldn't tell her, he didn't know that and she didn't want to hear it. So he let her go and waited for long, heavy seconds in silence before he finally got up to get his phone from the dresser. It felt like a ton of weights pulled him down and made every step a drag. It didn't help telling himself that it was just a silly appointment, that the doctor would only search her and tell them exactly how things looked.

It wasn't just that, and they would know, every second from now until that checkup would be done. He would know. And though Natasha had his full and unquestioned support in her decisions... Though it was madness even considering the other way, for a shitload of reasons... It hurt and he didn't even fucking know why.

He didn't need to know why, couldn't care, he just had to so his job, as usual, and that thought finally helped. He would do his job like the good little soldier he was and try to forget about all the casualties on the way. That was what was expected of him, right? Now and always.

It became a lot easier after he had fallen into sniper mode. The third call was the right one, the guy on the other end of the line sounded like he knew what he was saying and doing. And though the man with the North Italian accent wasn't opposed at all to a little extra cash for working as fast and discreet as possible, he sounded genuinely interested, capable and compassionate with his questions. Everything would be ready when they would arrive, and that was all Clint could do for now.

He left his phone on the dresser where he had plugged it because it had been completely dead but turned all sound and vibration off, ignoring the indicated missed calls and messages on the display completely. He couldn't care fucking less about what Fury or anyone else could want from him right now.

The calmness and distance lasted until he reached the sofa again and more fell onto it than sitting down. With Natasha next door and not even an electronic voice to talk to anymore, suddenly it was much too quiet. All the words exchanged, requests filed and assurances made, it all came back in a rush before he knew.

Yes, they had thought about it well, no it wasn't pretty but necessary, the mother's body couldn't handle it, they didn't want her endangered or get false hopes up, please see that we get this done as quickly as possible...

It crashed down on him like an ice cold waterfall before he could made an attempt of stopping it. There was no stopping it, no matter how tightly his body curled into a ball, no matter how hard he pressed his face into the next best pillow and tried to get back to meditating, to reciting, to anything that would keep his mind fucking quiet.

It turned out, the sounds of his own dry, forcefully stifled sobs into the pillows wasn't much better.

[study_in_scarlet]

Taking the bottle of water with her, Natasha slipped into the washroom and closed the door behind her. After using the toilet she washed her hands and splashed water on her face before the soft mewling sounds coming from the tub drew her over.

“Hello little one,” she said quietly, kneeling on the floor beside the tub. The kitten was sitting in the middle of the blanket looking dozy and pitiful. “Having a rough day?” It laid its ears back and cried a little louder at the sight and sound of her. “Me too.”

Cupping her hand, she poured a little water in and lowered it into the tub. She smiled when the kitten stumbled forward for a drink, but there was a distinct sadness in her eyes that didn’t fade. “You’ll get through it. You’re strong.”

When the water was gone she turned her hand to pet the furball but her movement was too quick and the kitten still disoriented from the medication and it struck out, drawing blood from the back of her hand. Snatching her hand out of reach, Natasha tried to block out the image, the cat and the blood; tried to forget the dream from the other night, the dream of memories. She hadn’t wanted another pet, not after what had happened to the last one... what she had done to the last one, and now...

Breathe. Just breathe.

Pushing up from the floor, she ignored the kitten’s cries this time and walked back over to the sink to wash off the bit of blood and clean the scratch like she’d told Clint to do earlier that day. She could hear his voice in the other room, just a faint murmur through the walls separating them, but she knew there were more than just these physical walls now. All the progress they had made they had been closer than ever, and now this. Drying off her hands, she placed them over her stomach. It wasn’t anything yet, just a clump of cells. There were no eyes, no nose, no hands, no bones. It was nothing, not human, not alive.

“I can’t,” she whispered again, before a very different sound in the quiet house drew her attention. Silently opening the door, she moved back toward the living room, her bare feet making no sound. What she found made her heart break. He tried so hard to be strong for her, to do whatever she thought she needed, to put himself second, and she had let him, had told herself it was okay. He didn’t want this child, he had told her he never wanted to be a father, but saying that when the option wasn’t there and meaning it when it was were two different things. When they talked about it before it had been hypothetical, and it had been easy to give up the chance, but now that it was a possibility and she was taking the chance from him it was entirely different.

Moving to the side of the sofa, she once again knelt on the floor, her arm going around his back to rub soothing circles that she knew would offer no real comfort.

[farmboyhawk]

It was a pretty good indicator for his mental state that he hadn't heard her coming, not even felt her presence near until she touched him. There could be a fucking assassin in the same room right now, and he would only know when he had a bullet in his skull.

Her caress made him jump, and for an awfully long irrational moment he felt like pushing her away. Not because he didn't want her close - he needed her more than anything right now - but because he didn't want her to see him like that. He couldn't let her. He couldn't be so fucking vulnerable right now, not when she needed him.

But pushing her away would have hurt her too, given her the feeling she had done something wrong when neither of them had. So he reached for her hand without turning around and held it close to his chest, concentrating of the feeling of her soft, tender skin under his fingertips. The faint throb of her pulse to attach his thoughts to, let them be carried away from that one place that held only hurt and blame, carried by the only tide of wanting - needing - to be strong for her. He couldn't allow himself to break now. He just couldn't.

It could have been seconds or minutes before his breathing finally evened and the steel hard tensed muscles of his back gave in a little. His throat and his eyes still burned from held back tears and he knew he looked like smoking weed all night long, but at least the air didn't feel like he was suffocating anymore.

"Salvatore Tomasi."

The name came from his lips before he realized he was about to talk. Right. He had to give her the only information she would want and need right now, before he could turn to her. It was so much easier facing the weathered dark back rest of the sofa when talking about this.

"Sounds like a good guy. He'll be waiting for us at 9 am tomorrow."

Considering the trend of the last days, that would be about the time when he would have collected Natasha from the bathroom floor, make her drink a few sips and driven her to the hospital, hopefully without killing them both on the way.

[study_in_scarlet]

Natasha immediately stilled her hand when Clint jumped at the touch.  She had been quiet, deadly silent, but he should have still known she was there.  He hadn’t. 

She expected him to close up, to sit up and try to hide his emotions, to shy away from her touch, so she was grateful when he took her hand instead.  They couldn’t shut each other out, they had to be there for one another, even if only in body, in shallow touches and hollow words.

For a long moment silence reigned and neither of them moved, like a portrait of grief painted on a tattered canvas, so when Clint finally spoke it was Natasha’s turn to flinch.  9am, less than 24 hours from now.

Just a consultation, she reminded herself.  It would feel invasive, he would have to thoroughly examine her, but the procedure would be another few days yet, at least.  She wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or upset at that thought.  Part of her just wanted to get it over and done with right now while another part, a smaller part, wanted to put it off.

Without a word Natasha climbed onto the couch behind Clint, molding her body along the curve he created, pressing herself against his back.  She didn’t know if such a touch would be welcome right now but she had to try. 

Burying her face against the back of his neck she tried to concentrate on her breathing, on his warmth, but she couldn’t ignore the nagging voice that was getting louder in her head.  Yesterday he hadn’t wanted to be a father, but now faced with this, with the reality that he could be, she realised she hadn’t offered him the same courtesy that he had.  She hadn’t asked him if he wanted the baby.

She still couldn’t find the words to do so.  She wasn’t sure what she would do if he said yes.  It was easier not knowing.

[farmboyhawk]

She was there, holding him, crawling into his space, before he had the chance to finally turn around, and he hated himself for being far too relieved. He was a fucking coward. He couldn't deal with the hurt on her face. He couldn't deal with her reaction when she understood how lost he really felt suddenly.

He had no right to feel this way. She was the one suffering most from this story. He was just the idiot who had gotten her pregnant, and probably only because he had been too fucking lazy to check on his fertility levels lately. Now it was her who had to live with the consequences, after she had already gone through this years ago. Somehow it was easier hating himself for that than dealing with the uncertainty. Dealing with the doubt, the question what could have been.

It would have been easier if she had been pissed with him.

But she wasn't, she was right there, pressing her body into his as if nothing had happened, and he could already feel that new built desperate wall inside crumble.

Why? What fucking difference did it make for him what she had decided? He was a weak sentimental idiot, that was all. He should be holding her now, not the other way round instead of leaning back into her embrace, keep her hand close to his face as if his lips on her skin could make any kind of difference.

And still he didn't had it in him to even turn his head.

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

His voice still sounded like he had smoked a whole package in one go, but he had to tell her, had to make her understand, somehow.

"I know what's the right thing to do and what you want, Nat, really, I..."

His hand clutched hers a little tighter and he pressed his face back into the pillows with another helpless little sob. It certainly didn't get better thinking about it. He needed to get his mind off things, that was what he had to fucking do, before he could drag her down even more.

"I feel like someone pulled the floor from under my feet."

[study_in_scarlet]

The truth of the matter was that she was just as much of a coward.  It was easy to hold him like this, to comfort him when she couldn’t see his eyes red from crying, see the heartbreak in his expression.  If she had to face him like this she wasn’t sure she could continue to hold herself together.

His breath was warm against her skin but it did nothing to banish the coldness that had settled over her, permeating from within.  She still felt numb, and while it wasn’t a good feeling it was a necessary one if she was to get through this and do what needed to be done.

It was all almost undone by the absolute devastation in his voice.

She wanted to cry with him for what they were losing, wanted to yell at him for letting it affect him so bad, for trying to get her to feel it.  It was the right thing to do, the only thing to do, but she still couldn’t say with certainty that it was what she wanted. 

There is always a choice.  Clint taught you that.

“I know,” she said quietly, lifting her head to place a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck. “It can be just as hard to lose what you don’t have sometimes.”

But they weren’t losing it, they weren’t losing anything.  She was giving it up before there was even a chance of losing it.  It’s better this way, she told herself, but better for whom?

[farmboyhawk]

Empty. Dull. Both their words and their touches. Two strangers dancing around a delicate subject without daring to shame the devil.

This wasn't right. Clint wanted to turn to her and wrap his arms around her. He couldn't let her bottle this up, he knew that, but now that he had gathered maybe enough composure to at least try, she had him successfully trapped with her body, and it was probably not coincident. She wanted to fall apart just as little as he did.

So what was the alternative? Living side by side like two strangers for... What had that been back then in his team partner's case, a week? He was already going nuts after half an hour. They couldn't do that, they had to try to be there for each other at least. He had promised her. He couldn't leave her alone with this...

But he didn't move and he didn't ask her to make room for him to roll on his back. He stayed immobile, let the uncomfortable heat and lack of fresh air from his cramped position dull his senses, counted her breaths, the beating of her heart and waited without knowing what for.

It was the increasing noise from the bathroom that finally broke his lethargy. Little one was awake enough to protest again.

"She'll be hungry."

He ran a tired hand through his sweat spiked hair and moved just softly, letting Natasha know, he had to get up, whether he wanted it or not. They couldn't lay around here all day, not with that certain responsibility they had loaded on their shoulders a few days ago. Maybe he should be glad, there was a guest present who needed his attention. At least that way the silence wouldn't hurt any longer.

And the furball wasn't be the only one who needed nutrition. Natasha would make a face again if he continued to coddle her, but it was really the least he could do right now, make sure she wasn't starving herself.

"Do me a favor, red? Try get some down grapes at least?"

[study_in_scarlet]

It felt like a long time that they laid together in silence, but it was an unusually uncomfortable silence for them.  Normally they could spend hours together without speaking a word and it felt like the most natural thing in the world, but not today.  Maybe not ever again.

  She held him a little tighter at the thought, already mourning the loss of the close bond they had developed.  It was still there, of course, but the strain this situation put on it was not one that would be easily fixed.

  Eventually the cries from the bathroom became too much to bear and Clint stirred in her arms.  It was only with great reluctance that she moved her arm from around him and sat up on the edge of the sofa, her hands absently rubbing her knees.  “Let me know when you’re ready to bathe her.  I’ll help,” she said, reaching for the plate and plucking a grape off of the stem.  As much as she wanted to protest she knew she needed to eat.  If there was no food in her stomach it wouldn’t stop her body from trying to vomit anyway, so it was better to have something to bring up than nothing at all. Popping the grape into her mouth she cringed slightly at the sweetness.  It was delicious, full of flavour, and exactly the opposite of what she should be eating.  Bland foods were easier to keep down, so she pushed up to her feet, ignoring the dizzy spell that washed over her as she did so.  “Do you want some toast or anything?”  She didn’t ask if he wanted tea, knowing he was much more of a coffee person.

[farmboyhawk]

"Not really hungry, thanks. Just getting lunch ready for the furball."

It was probably kind of hypocrite, asking her to eat and then not doing it himself, but he'd had his vitamins in the morning already. And he certainly had never felt less like eating.

Only when he had gotten the empty bowls from the garden and started chopping some chicken meat for little one, he remembered that cut from earlier on the back of his hand. By now it hurt like a bitch and turned into a aggressive red, but that was another thing he really had no patience for right now. Probably only the first of many if he wanted to do that bathing thing later. He hadn't planned on it, certainly not, not after what had happened, but Natasha had brought it up herself. And as much as he hated himself for it, keeping himself busy would at least hurt less than this dreadful silence.

He wasn't surprised at all to be greeted with a hiss when he neared the tub with the meat and the second bowl filled with milk. He obviously hadn't been forgiven yet. The furball stayed on the very other end of the tub when he sat on the bowls down. There she stayed while he sat on the tub edge, wary to go back to this too cold, to quiet room just yet.

But after a little while, hunger and thirst obviously won over her grudge and she started eating. They couldn't keep her in there forever of course, Mother nature would be calling soon enough, meaning, he better hurried up with that bath, so they could set little one out for the rest of the day. And hope she didn't find the next mud lake to roll in immediately.

Clint rubbed over his folded hands absent-minded, hardly realizing the dull throb in the right and watched their little guest without a sense of the time passing. He knew he should be checking on Natasha instead of the animal but he also knew just as well how much she hated to be coddled. They had quite a bit of that in their near future anyway, no need to drive her up the wall in the first hour already.

And what could he say to her? They had made up their minds and were facing a horrible situation. Not exactly a moment to celebrate and burst into song. It was just like before a really bad mission when they had often both retreated to find focus and balance prior to diving into a new pool of blood.

Only it wasn't a fucking mission, and everytime he tried to put it like that in his own head, he felt a little like starting to puke his guts out himself. He might be a master of lies if it came to delude himself and run from every bullshit in his life, but this wasn't about him. What he was doing right now was affecting another life, and not some stranger's or victim's or enemy's. How the fuck was he supposed to just live with that, dismiss it like nothing happened?

"I can't and I'm doing it anyway, that's what's going on", he told their little guest quietly who hardly turned an ear into his direction but went on enjoying her milk. "You know, I really don't know why you came here. I'm a fucking asshole and a coward."

[study_in_scarlet]

While Clint went outside to retrieve the bowls Natasha filled the kettle and put it on to boil, choosing not to comment on his refusal of food. Cutting a slice of bread she didn’t pop it in the toaster yet, wanting to wait until her tea was steeping first.

More awkward silence followed as Clint prepared the food for the kitten and Natasha literally watched the kettle, waiting for the water to boil. It was as uncomfortable and painful as it sounds. Eventually he disappeared into the washroom with the food and she was left alone just waiting and watching and reminding herself to breathe.

Once her meager lunch was ready she sat back on the sofa and ate slowly and carefully. Her stomach felt more settled and she hoped the sickness had passed for the day. If only she could settle her mind and her heart as well.

Clint was gone a long time, and when by the time she finished eating and he hadn’t returned she slipped through to the bedroom and out on the balcony he had been so eager to show her that first day. She wished she could go back to that moment, back when things had been simpler. Even the beauty of the scenery didn’t seem able to touch her heart.

[farmboyhawk]

He could hear her moving around outside and was relieved when she seemed to try to eat something at least, but it wasn't until he heard her go outside that he finally moved. Hiding in here was even more fucking pathetic than being close to her and not knowing what to say. Shallow comfort was better than nothing, and right now she could use every comfort he could give her.

About that other thing, the battle he was having with himself... He could deal with that when all this was over. Or just lock it away like everything else in his life. Probably one more nightmare didn't really make a difference. Natasha had it much worse than him in that department too.

She was still looking lost standing on the balcony, but he could feel his own throat loosening up just a little bit. Maybe he couldn't be so depressed that the breeze of the ocean didn't at least lift a little weight off his shoulders. They were in a good place, together. They would get through this, somehow, they had to. They had gotten through everything together so far, right?

He was very careful when he wrapped his arms around her, not wanting to disturb her when her stomach had just stopped giving her a hard time. His lips on her shoulder were just as tender, only a shadow of a touch. At least he didn't feel like freezing inside out anymore under the bright sun. Maybe he could try and put himself together again and actually succeed this time.

"Tell me what you need, Nat. What you need me to do."

[study_in_scarlet]

Natasha heard him approaching and willed herself not to tense up. She didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know what would happen next? Another stilted discussion about food? An impersonal update on the kitten? Then his arms wrapped around her from behind and she found herself sagging back against him, relaxing into the embrace.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. She didn’t know what she needed, didn’t know what he could do for her. “But this is good.” Just being in his arms helped, and she wrapped her own over his, holding them around her as she laid her head back on his shoulder.

[farmboyhawk]

"That's good. This I can do."

Clint smiled a little, but it felt exhausting. Again... better than nothing. And well, it was true. He wouldn't let her out of his arms for even a second until all this was over and longer, if that was what helped her. This spot right under the brightest sun of the day maybe wasn't the best place for it, though, not when she had been feeling so sick in the morning. But he didn't want to rob her off that peace and calmness of the sight either...

"Hang in a second."

He pressed his lips to her shoulder and stepped back inside to hurry over to the dresser where he had already scattered his things all around, just like at home. One of the most important items of living in these parts he had placed right on top, fortunately. He also brought a big towel since that old deck chair on his balcony had seen a few too seasons to be very inviting.

Stepping behind Natasha again, he gently placed his baseball cap on her head and arranged her tangled curls out of her face before he pulled her in his arms again.

"We can just sit here for a while if you want", he murmured against her shoulder, nodding down on that towel he had placed on the chair. "You know, not talk or anything... Just... just sit and wait."

Wait for what? For tomorrow, obviously, but maybe until one of them finally had the courage to speak up, if that would happen at all.

[study_in_scarlet]

Natasha didn’t protest when he moved away, didn’t turn to watch what he was doing.  She knew he would be back; he always came back.

It was warm out on the balcony in the sun, much to warm to still be wearing his sweater but she didn’t want to take it off, not until it was necessary. 

When he came back and plunked his baseball cap on her head she couldn’t help but laugh a little in spite of everything as she tilted her head back to peer at him from under the brim.  Then she was in his arms again, the one place she felt safe and warm. 

She nodded at the suggestion, though sitting and ‘waiting’ sounded pretty awful, even if she got to sit with him.  “You could pick a book to read to me as well,” she said quietly, pulling out of his arms to take a seat on the towel.

[farmboyhawk]

"Gotta go through your bag for that", Clint warned her with half a grin. "I promise not to steal anything."

That actually sounded like a pretty good idea. Natasha had enjoyed that book from the beach very much, he could tell from the way she had read it to him. It was only fair to return the favor now. And if talking horses and magical woods helped get her mind off things... Even better.

When he got back from collecting the book he also had a fresh, cold bottle of water with him and placed it next to the deck chair before settling behind her, leaning back in the chair. Softly, without any pressure he wrapped one arm around her again, motioning her to lean back against him she wanted to and flipped that book open to where Natasha had stopped last time.

"Just stop me if it gets too hot or something, okay?"

He pressed his face softly against her neck again, seeking out that same spot where his sweater bared just a small part of her shoulder with his lips, but pulled it back in place then. It was too hot. But if she felt still sick or more comfortable like this, the hell he would ask her to loose that piece of clothing. And on the upside, she wouldn't catch a sunburn.

[study_in_scarlet]

Clint seemed pleased with the suggestion, and Natasha was glad for the distraction.  The words would give her something else to focus on, to think about.

It wasn’t long before he returned with the book and took his seat behind her.  Settling back in his arms, she threaded her fingers through his and rested her head against his shoulder.  Fixing her eyes somewhere out on the ocean, she listened to the soft litany of his voice and while she was definitely interested in the story, she still found her mind wandering.

What kind of father would he be?  She suspected he would be the best kind, and nothing like his own.  He would tuck his children in and read them bedtime stories in a soft voice that lulled them to sleep.  He would kiss them good night whenever he was home to do so, and fix them breakfast in the mornings, making sure they got enough fruit.  He would be everything his own father wasn’t, if given the chance.

[farmboyhawk]

It was a little hot for Clint too, especially with talking all the time, and soon he ended up drinking from that bottle himself. But he held it out for Natasha everytime he reached for it first. With side-eyes looks he could live right now, if it meant she stayed hydrated at least.

In one of these small breaks, rolling a sip of water in his mouth, he allowed himself to watch her for a moment as much as it was possible from the angle. Now that he had kind of caught his basic balance back, he could do that again. He had to. He had to watch her and watch out for her in this upcoming time, the absent look on her face showed him that clearly. She wouldn't be able to do it herself, not as much as usual.

Maybe that was the perfect job for partners who had fucked up. At least it would stop him from drowning in self-pity.

That thick knot in his throat already threatened to return, so he took another sip and went back to reading, though he caught himself hardly paying attention to the story. The witch was screaming at that unicorn or something, they had it about something like lost youth and innocence. Jesus. His patience with fairy tales didn't reach very far since a few hours.

He was kind of relieved when inside the house the protesting screams of their visitor started again. The sun had cooled and settled down a bit over the ocean, so they had obviously spent some time here though he could hardly recall it. Which probably meant a mess from their furball - good thing it was just the tub - that bath waiting and lunchtime soon.

He still searched for any sign of hunger in his stomach in vain, but when he stood up after putting Natasha's bookmarklet back in and pressing his lips to her clearly sun heated skin once more, he realized he had been sitting for a while in too high temperatures himself. He had to rest on the balcony door for a moment, shake the dizziness from his head. When he reached for that bottle again, he found it empty this time.

"I need to take care of her. Do you want to stay here? Need more water or something?"

[study_in_scarlet]

Somewhere in the back of her mind Natasha heard the story, but it wasn’t really registering, wasn’t doing anything to distract her now lift her mood.  The book was beautifully written, but it had a sadness about it, a melancholy, that made it apparent this was no longer the book they should be reading.  Something happier and funny, or maybe a mystery to solve; those would be better options.  Maybe after this session she would switch it out for next time.

She took the water whenever Clint offered, taking small sips so as not to overdo it, but while he enjoyed the heat much more than her, he seemed to also be minding it much more at the moment as well.  It wasn’t that she didn’t feel it, it just seemed so unimportant.

Eventually the cries of their tiny ward drew their attention, and it was probably a welcome distraction.  “I’ll come in,” she replied, getting carefully to her feet as well.  She had to close her eyes a moment and grip the back of the chair, but the dizziness passed and she joined him at the door.  “I can fix a salad.”  Food still wasn’t her top priority right now, but it had begun to register that while she hadn’t eaten much due to feeling ill, Clint just hadn’t eaten much, period.  She couldn’t let him neglect himself like that, not because of her.  “Unless you think you’ll need help?”