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.


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[study_in_scarlet]

Natasha had always hated this part of her annual S.H.I.E.L.D. physicals more than any other.  She had had things done to her in her past, methods of torture and conditioning she had learned to endure, and while it had left her nearly unflinching to anything that could be done to her she was not fond of letting anyone touch her that she didn’t trust.

This doctor was clearly alarmed by what he saw, though he did a very good job of hiding it and remaining professional.  Her doctors at S.H.I.E.L.D. knew her history, or at least the parts of it she had been willing to share, but this poor man was completely unprepared.  She answered what questions she felt comfortable doing so, the questions that would not incriminate them in any way as something other than the vacationing couple they were pretending to be.  He didn’t completely buy it, she could tell, but he didn’t push her either.  Ultimately the origins of her scarring weren’t as important as their effects.

Needless to say, when the physical exam was over Natasha was glad to retreat back behind the partition and regain some of her protective layers.  Her hands shook harder now as she tied the drawstrings on her pants but she breathed through it. 

Returning to the others, shirt in hand, she climbed back onto the stretcher and laid down, making herself as comfortable as she could.  A wave of relief washed over her when Tomasini turned the monitor away so she couldn’t see it, something she hadn’t let herself think about yet.  On that screen would be an image, and image she couldn’t even predict not knowing exactly how far along she was.  Maybe it would just be a blob like on television where the doctor describes a humanoid shape that looks nothing like they’re pointing out.  Maybe it would look like nothing.  Or maybe she would see the shape, see the beginnings of what it was becoming.

Shuddering at the cold gel that was administered to her stomach before the doctor started pushing the probe around, Natasha was grateful when Clint took her hand, the touch gentle and soothing.  Looking up to meet his eyes she tried to focus on his face, tried not to let her gaze stray to the doctor’s expression.  She could read so much in it if she looked, also part of her training, but she wasn’t ready, not yet.

[farmboyhawk]

They were staring at each other like two people drowning and only holding themselves above the surface with the power of their gaze. If it hadn't been so sad, Clint would have laughed, because it was so much not like them. They had seen things that could make people lose their mind, had done things that other people got life-sentences for, and here they were unable to look at a fucking monitor. Suddenly it was so hard even thinking about taking a life.

Only when that hard clench in his stomach returned, he realized that it was the first time he actually allowed that thought. Immediately all rationality and protective walls inside wanted to spring into action, reminding him that this was completely different, this was no life, not yet. This was all completely legal and they would only cut short what would happen anyway...

But knowing this and seeing from the corner of his eyes how the doctor searched Natasha's belly with that damn sensor and knowing what was there, was something completely different. This all... was different, this was them, not just another tragic story they could leave behind and try to atone for later. This was... His eyes fluttered close for a moment, for a second he thought that he would lose it right here and there.

Then the sensor was turned off with a quiet electronic sound, the doctor handed Natasha a few paper towels, and that had been that. Thank the heavens. Clint just hoped very much, Tomasini wouldn't have the silly idea of giving them that picture he had printed from the monitor over there. Probably he would have run outside screaming then.

He waited until Natasha was fully clothed again and had sat up, then he took his place next to her again and wrapped his arm around her, took her hand firmly in his while they waited.

It didn't take long this time.

"Alright, let's talk formalities first."
Tomasini took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes for a moment after he had filed all that paperwork and that photo, fortunately without turning it in their direction. Without these horrible glasses, the guy looked younger than ever.
"We've already talked about the legal time period on the phone. That one I can't trick, even if I wanted to. I can give you an appointment in exactly a week, that's the earliest possibility. You put your signature on this paper and I'll be here when you are."
He shortly tapped his fingertips against the file but made no move to take out any kind of form yet.
"I just think you should be fully aware of the situation before. I don't know your full medical history, Miss, and I'm not sure I want to. In any case it makes it difficult for you to conceive, but it's not impossible. A tubal pregnancy would have been very likable, but it hasn't happened. The fetus is fully healthy and growing at a normal rate for what seems to be a 10 weeks old. Now that conception is complete, neither your nor the fetus' health are more endangered than with other pregnancies. Unless there's something you haven't told me yet. If you want to, I suggest you do it now. Or we just sign that form and you come back in a week."

[study_in_scarlet]

The whole procedure felt agonizingly slow, though in reality it probably only took a couple of minutes, but when the doctor turned the monitor off Natasha was filled with both relief and regret. Part of her didn’t think she could handle seeing whatever had been on that screen, while another part wished she would have looked for reasons she couldn’t quite grasp. No good could have come of it, yet part of her felt she should have looked, just once, that she should have seen it before it was gone and she never got another chance.

Shaking off these thoughts she wiped off her stomach and pushed herself up to sit. She somehow managed to steady herself in the face of company and button her shirt without issue, and for a long moment there was only silence as Tomasini organized his notes and Clint reclaimed his seat beside Natasha.

When he spoke she stopped breathing.

Everything looked normal. She was ten weeks along and everything looked normal. Ten weeks, more than two months, but everything looked normal. Difficult to conceive but not impossible, and not everything looked normal. Now that she had conceived there was no more danger than with other pregnancies, normal pregnancies. This could be a normal pregnancy.

She couldn’t process it. She had spent more than a decade believing she would never again conceive, and even if it somehow happened she could never carry to term. More than a decade believing her body would reject it. More than a decade... and that wasn’t something she would get over quickly nor easily. “I was told...” she started, her voice sounding faraway, shocked. “I had a miscarriage, a long time ago, and I was told I’d never carry to term.” She could never carry the baby, it would always die, so they had ‘fixed’ her, fixed her so she couldn’t conceive either. That’s what they had said.

They said a lot of things.

She felt ill again, lightheaded, and this time it was Clint she couldn’t bring herself to look at so she kept her eyes fixed on the doctor and tried to understand.

[farmboyhawk]

If Natasha hadn't been there... If he hadn't held her hand and felt it go even colder or heard her voice, that cut-off from the world, empty, too quiet tone that was usually reserved for nightmares and level 10 disaster missions... Clint would already have been out of the room. His body was taut like a bowstring, tensing with every word of their doctor's mouth more. His own skin was mingling with unnatural cold, his throat had turned into a needle eye. The one - the only - thought flashing through his completely blank mind was to run.

He wanted to run and forget this had ever happened. Pretend that he had not been so stupid in that phone call yesterday and asked. He should have told that greenhorn just to do the checkup and arrange an appointment and not ask any questions, no matter how much money it would have cost. Why had he asked? Knowing, fully knowing that it could only bring so much more helplessness and fear? It was exactly and nothing what he had wanted to hear. It was exactly what would make it the hardest for Natasha, to have that child, to have the chance and then, again...

His panicking thoughts, fluttering through his head like a bunch of scared squirrels, came to an abrupt halt. Natasha... She was the one who had to carry this burden. She was the one who had to make that decision...

And it was clear by her completely lost tone that she couldn't, not here, not now. She wasn't even really here right now. Not in a way that allowed any serious discussion. He couldn't let her make any decisions right now, she would only regret it later if it was the wrong one. He had to handle this, somehow...

This... Was he still trying to run from it, after the doctor had said it in their faces? This wasn't a thing, it was a healthy human being, a fetus, a baby, his...

A surprisingly strong hand on his forearm shook him back to reality and he realized, without much surprise, he hadn't been breathing. Tomasini just eyes him critically for a moment when he drew back air in his lungs, not looking surprised at all, just a little worried. Then he took his seat again and started waiting again until any of them could come up with something say.

Clint found, he liked the guy, as far as he could grab any kind of feeling at all right now. He couldn't have dealt with questions right now. He could hardly comprehend what was going on himself, and he still had to get Natasha home somehow. They would have to talk about it, alone, about...

Before the next panic attack could kick him, he forced himself to take another deep breath and at least gargle out a few words. He just wanted out of here right now.

"Um, I don't think we..."

"Obviously not."
Tomasini already scribbled something more down as if he had just waited for the call and handed Clint a paper that he took with numb fingers.
"You can still sign the form before the appointment. Means a lot more paperwork for me, but we can do that. There's two dates."
He nodded down onto that sheet because Clint stared like it like he had forgot how to read Arabic numerals.
"In case you want more time to decide. You'll pretend I never said that but I've noted the conception date a week later than it probably was. A week, frankly, makes not much, medical difference and you have more time. After three months, the worst of a normal pregnancy risk is over. Maybe you want to wait that long. If not, I'll be here next week."

"Thanks, doc."

Clint's lips felt just as numb as his hand. That... that was good, right? At least he didn't have to worry now what Natasha would want to do. Maybe he was putting way too much thought in this and she already had decided... He should just ask her if she wanted to leave or just lead her outside, but if he tried to drive them home now, he would wrap them around the next flashlight pole.

So he waited for her to speak, no matter how afraid he suddenly was what she would say.

[study_in_scarlet]

Natasha barely registered Clint’s hand still holding hers, barely noticed the exchange between him and the doctor. It was too much to take in at once, too much to digest after years or believing it was all impossible. She had never let herself wonder if she wanted children because it had never been a possibility; it had barely crossed her mind to even consider it. She had shoved it to the back, buried it deep with the body of the child that had never lived. All thoughts of a family had died that day, and now she didn’t know what to feel. What is one supposed to feel when the impossible is suddenly possible?

She listened to what the doctor said but didn’t really hear it. He spoke of appointments, of fudging numbers to give them more time. Three months. That was only two weeks away. Two weeks and the worse risk would be over.

The worst of a normal pregnancy.

“I just want to make certain I’m clear,” she said after a long moment. Her voice had lost that hollow tone, and something else had taken it’s place. She now sounded calm, deadly calm, and suddenly all business. “What you’re saying is that I was wrongly informed, that it was only the conception that was difficult, and now that that is done there would be no difference between this pregnancy and anyone else’s? You are saying that it is not even high risk?”

[farmboyhawk]

Natasha's sudden change of voice had Clint startle, wince inside, because it was so not what he had expected. For a moment he was sure that she would tear that sheet in his hands and tell the doctor not to be an idiot. Of course they would be here next week because everything else was madness.

And why not? She had told him, she didn't - couldn't - want the child and now... Now... The hand not holding hers had started that death grip around his elbow again, and faintly he realized he was drawing blood. A good sensation. A real sensation, something that was actually there, unlike his own mind that was floating somewhere under the ceiling.

She didn't say it. She asked, again, and he didn't know why. Part of him wanted to scream at her to stop, stop acting like this was suddenly a thing. They had decided that it couldn't be, right? No need to even think about it because...

But that wasn't true, he had wanted to go sure. And now he couldn't seem to remember why. That one word kept on repeating itself in his head - fetus, the fetus, it was alright, the baby was alright - but he couldn't really make any sense of it. A baby? When had they started about having a baby? And why didn't he stop it at once?

He probably should be glad Natasha had taken over the talking. Right now he couldn't even remember how to ask for a cab in Italian.

"I can see how your doctors came to that conclusion", Tomasini meanwhile answered, in a casual tone as if he wasn't talking about one of the worst things in Natasha's life.
Of course he didn't know, for him they were just a normal couple and Clint already admired the man. If he was surprised that they were not dancing and laughing, now that they knew they had been wrong about certain things, he didn't show.
"The internal scarring is severe. You've got some pretty active swimmers there, Mister."

You should have seen my vitals two years ago, Clint thought dully. But not even the guilt, the anger about his own laziness to check on such stuff, couldn't make it through that choking cloud of panic growing by the second.

"But scarring like that seldom reaches the uterus. Your organs are intact, and your blood results I have here show no abnormality at all. I don't see a reason why your body should reject the baby if it hasn't so far. No one can guarantee you a whole safe journey, woman like you who have gone through this know this more than anyone. But if you ever had the wish... Now is the time to think about it."

[study_in_scarlet]

The doctor was good, she had to give him that. When Natasha’s demeanour changed he didn’t even flinch, he just gave her the facts in a normal, factual tone unhindered by her questions nor what he had seen during the examination. He didn’t ask what had happened to her, didn’t ask about the extent of her trauma. Calm, cool, and completely professional. She liked him.

This raised more questions than not, and not even just about the pregnancy. The Red Room had tried to make her sterile and had nearly succeeded, but they had not made her body the wasteland they had assumed, or had that been a lie? Not surprising coming from them. What was surprising was S.H.I.E.L.D. Had they lied? Or had they simply never checked her that thoroughly? If they believed her never able to conceive then what did it matter if she could carry a child or not?

Brushing these thoughts away she finally squeezed Clint’s hand before pulling her own free. “Thank you, doctor, for seeing us so quickly,” she said, extending her hand for him to shake. “Clint, let’s go.”

Getting to her feet and ignoring that dizziness again, she purposefully left her empty tea mug behind as she led him from the room. Once outside she conveniently remembered and asked Clint to go clear everything up at the front desk while she grabbed it. It wasn’t long before she rejoined him.

[farmboyhawk]

They were shaking hands, it obviously was time to go. So Clint did the same and said good-bye, one of the few Italian phrases he could remember right now.

Natasha still had that resolute, no-bullshit-tone and he was very thankful for that. Orders were good. He was great at orders.

He followed her with his hand clutched around that damn sheet, counted the tiles of the floor and hardly looked up when Natasha vanished after another order. Right. Formalities. Organizing stuff. He could do that too. That was what they had come for, right? Getting their appointment and all.

Everything else that had happened... was kind of lost in a confused haze and the grim determination to keep it together. To not run outside and then keep running, up the hills or maybe a few miles away, to Mount Etna... That actually sounded pretty nice. Just running until he couldn't breathe anymore and his head would shut up, and if he was lucky, he blacked out and fell into that damn volcano.

It was a nice fantasy but Natasha had told him to do the checkout, so he handed the paper stuff to the nurse who neared him, seemingly informed of everything. He got two more sheets back, a little more formal and colorful looking, and then a whole other pile of forms for Natasha to read. The woman talked and talked and he had no idea what she was saying. It probably had something to do with what they should and shouldn't do before that appointment, but his ability to translate had completely shut down for the day.

He rather kept on staring on the floor while he nodded and gave a monotone "Si, signora" from time to time and wondered if it was impolite to ask the chick to call him a cab, because that was the only help they needed right now. But she kept on talking and he stared pass her to the door, trying to make out if there were maybe cabs on the parking lot.

Instead his gaze fell on a young couple entering through the big glass doors, accompanied by some first aiders. The young woman sat in a wheelchair and hugged a grotesque huge belly, looking more unnerved than anything. Her just as young boyfriend didn't stop talking for even a second, emphasizing every word with the typical Italian restless hand gestures. Of course his girl had worn sun protection, did they think he was an idiot? Why were they asking stupid questions instead of checking on her? And why had it taken them half an hour to arrive? Couldn't they see, she was pregnant?

The paramedics looked like they would throw the guy out every second and the people in the waiting hall wrinkled their noses at the disturbance. But the girl caught Clint's stare before he could look away to not act like a creep. To his surprise, the girl smiled, just a little to not upset her guy even more, and cradled her belly as if to signalize, everything was okay.

Clint had an idea, he looked even worse than he felt if even completely strangers could tell just by his face. The couple seemed nice. They looked happy. Wasn't that what it was supposed to be, something good and nice and joyful? Why did he feel like someone was ripping his heart out then?

He vaguely registered Natasha next to him and supposed they were ready to go. The nurse had given up getting anything into his head anyway. He tilted his head aside and meet Natasha's eyes fleetingly, waiting for the next order.

[study_in_scarlet]

The folded up paper felt like it was burning a hole in her pocket as she walked the halls, but once she was with Clint again she had something else to focus on. 

He looked terrible, somehow pale despite the sun he had gotten yesterday, completely lost and confused and more than a little terrified.  She noticed the couple he had been watching, the very pregnant woman looking rather happy despite everything, her arm wrapped around her large belly.

Not letting her gaze linger, Natasha slipped her hand into Clint’s and interlaced their fingers.  “Is there a park nearby?  Or somewhere we can sit?”

She was pretty sure he was in no condition to drive right now, nor would he be too keen on her doing so.  Besides, the idea of that uncomfortable drive home, no matter how short, was almost unbearable.  If they could find somewhere to sit that was either open enough that there wouldn’t be anyone else too close, or secluded enough that they could pretend they were alone then maybe they could at least get the worst of the conversation over with before they went home.

[farmboyhawk]

Talk? Clint wasn't sure he wanted to talk about anything right now. He wasn't even sure he could. Then again, he didn't have an idea what he wanted to do, except for maybe empty a bottle of whiskey until he was too far gone to think.

That option obviously wasn't in the books so he did what he could best and followed Natasha's lead again, just nodding shortly and leading her outside. He had no real idea where he was going, actually. But there were little viewpoints everywhere in this city thanks to its location, so being alone shouldn't be too hard.

He kept his gaze mostly locked to the floor while they were walking because suddenly he seemed to spot a damn baby stroller or a pregnant woman everywhere he was looking, and he still wasn't that far from just starting to run. Fortunately it was just a two minutes walk to a well in the shadow of the main street, with a good view on the ocean. Similar to the one they had been sitting on on their first morning here. Which right now seemed to be an eternity away.

Clint fell down on the low stone wall like someone had paralyzed his legs and continued staring at the floor then. Natasha probably expected him to say something, but that big mouth of his for once had gone to mute. And really, what was there for him to say? It wasn't different than before. This all still was her decision. He shouldn't even be bothered by what was possible or not.

Yep. That would be best. He would just let her talk and nod and then buy them a cab home and get his ugly ass drunk for the rest of the day. The plan had a few flaws, admittedly, but he was Clint Barton after all. People didn't expect anything but disaster from him.

[study_in_scarlet]

Natasha was glad to be free of the hospital, so sterile and stifling, and while the fresh air and warm sun should have revived her, but tagging along with the solemn Clint was more than a little unnerving. He wouldn’t talk to her, wouldn’t even look at her, and Natasha was getting tempted to just put the talk off and tell him she needed some time alone. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea, a little time apart to think about this whole thing and try to decide what they truly felt, independent of one another. She kept the idea to herself but didn’t write it off yet.

She let go of his hand when he threw himself down dramatically on the wall and continued to avoid looking at her. Yes, she did want him to say something, but it became very clear that he wasn’t planning on it. She pursed her lips in irritation before taking the seat next to him.

“We can’t have this child,” she stated bluntly, keeping her eyes locked on Clint to read every reaction, no matter how minute. “Look at our jobs, look at who we are and what we do. Look at all the things we have done. A child would be a weakness enemies can exploit, and what life could we possibly give it? It would never work.”

The tone of her voice slipped at the end, though, indicating that there was very much a “but...” coming.

[farmboyhawk]

"You're telling me nothing I don't now, Nat."

It was obvious she expected him to speak, so he did when she trailed off, not sure what would come out of his mouth. She was saying exactly what he had expected, so why was he surprised? The doctor had just confirmed it, there was never a pregnancy without any risk, and why would she want to take that risk again? The first time had been traumatizing enough. This was her decision alone to make, he had no right to persuade her into anything. Especially when he wasn't even sure he wanted it.

But that was not what she was saying. She was starting with a whole lot of other stuff that in the end had nothing to do with them, personally, with their decision, her decision. How was she expecting him to even start his making up his mind about this when she didn't?

He wasn't getting angry, he was feeling far too off to project any kind of feeling to the outside right now. But at least that little irritation gave him enough composure for to finally look at her. He had to look at her, he had to see the answer in her eyes before he could start to decide how he felt about this. Not that it mattered. But he wanted to know what to expect.

"You still haven't told me if you want the baby."

[study_in_scarlet]

The answer was flatter than she expected but it was something, something more than him just staring at his feet while she tried to figure this out for herself. She knew in the end that this was her decision, but it was a big decision, and he was very much a part of it as well.

She expected him to agree, but she was surprised when he asked that question again, the one that turned her inside out and made this all so difficult. Did she want the baby.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Since the... since the last time it hasn’t been an option so I haven’t thought about it for so long.”

Now she had to think about it, now she had to make the decision. It should have been easy because of all the things she had already said. There were so many reasons they shouldn’t even attempt this, so many reasons why they should book that appointment and end it all now. What good reasons were there to keep it?

“It’s just that... this wasn’t supposed to be possible, and if...” she paused to take a deep, shuddering breath. The steel walls she had put up were tumbling, that cold mask slipping away. “This is likely my only chance.” That was what it all boiled down to. If she got rid of it now and decided later that she was ready and wanted this, it wasn’t likely to be a possibility again in the future.

[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."

[study_in_scarlet]

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. 

[farmboyhawk]

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.

[study_in_scarlet]

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.

[farmboyhawk]

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.

[study_in_scarlet]

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.

[farmboyhawk]

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.

[study_in_scarlet]

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.

[farmboyhawk]

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?

[study_in_scarlet]

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?

[farmboyhawk]

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?

[study_in_scarlet]

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.