Sight & Vision Intro - Email Log
"I'm sorry. He doesn't want to see anyone," the doctor tells her. Clint had been in SHIELD medical since the last mission. He'd gotten caught in the concussive blast. She'd have to make a very valid argument in order to see him. Otherwise it wasn't going to happen.
Valid argument? She's really not in the mood for that so Natasha simply, easily pins the poor doctor to a nearby desk. "That's nice, but I wasn't asking." She pushes the doctor's face against the keyboard. It's been days and no one will tell her anything, not even Fury. Natasha is going to find out what's going on here, no matter what.
The doctor really doesn't seem all that phased. Not even when his face is pressed against the keyboard. "I'm sorry, agent Romanoff, but it's from the request of the patient himself." Though something should tell her that's probably not even true. Doesn't mean the good doctor is going to relent though. He has orders of his own.
"Bullshit." Tasha pushes harder, sure the impressions of the keys will be left on the doctor's face. "He always wants to see me." She's sure of it. Unless... "What happened to him?"
He almost seemed bored of her little power play. Though the good doctor also knew how Clint was. Knew the relationship between him and the Black Widow even if everyone didn't. "He was in a concussive blast, Agent Romanoff. Let him rest for a while."
"I know what happened on the mission." She lets go when she realize this is having no effect. Time for a new tactic. "Can't I see him, just for a minute?" Natasha flashes the doctor...well...puppy eyes.
Did she honestly think she could bully one of SHIELD's doctors? He shakes his head giving a half smile. "Let him rest, Agent Romanoff. Give it a half hour and then you can go in to see him."
Yes, yes she kind of did. Natasha yields, however and gives it exactly thirty minutes. She's back in medical fifteen seconds after the half hour has passed.
Yes, well, this doctor has been around far too long. Has even mended Fury up so not much phases him. Much less bully SHIELD agents. When she does come back he gives her a smile, "Go on in."
The smile is off-putting, and now that she's told she can go in she's almost afraid to. Still, she's seen Clint with worse than this, she's sure of it.
Except where when she goes into the room those eyes of his are closed and the gauze that covered them are laying on the table. He looks a bit worse for wear as well. Then again he wasn't moving and possibly still asleep.
That makes her freeze, and the selfish cowardly part of her is glad he has his eyes closed so he can't see her so afraid. "Hey." She moves almost soundlessly, as usual. "They said you couldn't have visitors but you know I don't like rules much."
There's no answer out of him when she starts talking. Though it's a good few moments later when there's a slight groan out of him and those eyes open. They seem normal enough but then again it isn't like she's really looking into them. "Hey yourself." It's croaked out because he's not used his voice for a bit but that's to be expected.
She leans down, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then his lips before nuzzling her face against him. "The way everyone was talking I was afraid something terrible had happened to you."
He kisses her back before closing his eyes, tears slipping from them a little whether he wants them to or not. "Something terrible has happened, Tasha."
She brushes her thumbs over his tears gently, almost afraid to ask. "Clint." She manages to whisper. "What's wrong?"
"Why don't you look and find out for yourself," he says opening his eyes and looking toward the sound of her voice.
"What are you--" She stops dead when he looks at her. Natasha can't breath, she can't say anything, and she can't look away. After a moment she very carefully reaches out and rests her hand over his eyes, reaching down to kiss his forehead again. "We'll fix it." She says firmly.
That gets a laugh out of him and it's almost cold. "There is no way of fixing this, Tasha. They've already tried what they could and failed."
"No!" She grits her teeth, fighting back angry tears. This is not an option, not even a remote possibility of an option. His eyes are, well, they're his fucking eyes. They're what he needs to be the man he is and she won't let him lose that. "We'll find someone else. There are other doctors, other options. There has to be."
"No there isn't and we both know it," he says a bit sadly. "Tasha, stop fighting a losing battle. I'll just have to learn to use my bow without the use of my eyes." He'd have to work on letting his other senses take over.
"What the hell am I supposed to fight a losing battle for if not YOU?!" She spits back harshly, her anger at the situation bubbling over. Natasha sniffles, breathing slowly as she tries to calm herself down. "You...you're really...?" She reaches out her fingers slowly, cautiously. Natasha smiles, hoping how proud she is of him shows in her voice since he can't see it on her face. "If anyone in the world can learn to do that it's you, Clint."
His eyes look to where he hears her voice. Or at least he thinks that's where she's at. "I can't see you, Tasha. I don't even actually know where you are. I can kind of feel where you are or I think..." To be honest he's not too entirely sure. Though he does smile a bit at her last words. "I'm sure I'll figure something out."
She's almost happy he can't see her, because her heart if broken. Tasha can't save him, she can't fix him and she hates it. She hates herself more than anything right now. "I'm here." She summons the courage to brush her fingers over his cheek as she forces herself to sound optimistic. "I guess you and I will have a lot of training to do, won't we?"
He leans into the touch a bit, "I'm going to have to remember where everything is at in our home too. Also means we won't be able to rearrange anything without telling me." Otherwise he's not going to know where everything is and would probably trip over things. There was really no telling. "How're you holding up?"
That he's concerned about that of all things makes her laugh, really truly laugh. "You'll remember." Natasha presses another kiss to his temple. "How am I holding up?" She asks, shaking her head. She hadn't even thought about how she feels, only about him which never works the way she expects. Natasha will never stop needing to protect him, no matter what. "I'm..." She pauses. "I'll be fine as long as you're with me, just like always."
Of course he's going to be concerned about all of those things. "We hope I'll remember." Though he is always asking how she's holding up. Not caring how he, himself, is holding up. He's more worried about her right now. "I'm not going anywhere, Tasha. So when can we get the hell out of here?"
"If you don't remember I'll show you." She promises, reaching down for his hand. She gives his hand a tight squeeze. "I'll go find out. If you can't come home tonight I'll stay here with you."
"Okay," he says softly with a slight smile. He squeezes her hand back, "Can you, please. Hopefully they'll let me go home tonight. I don't want to be here." Though he doesn't always get what he wants when it comes to this damn medical staff.
She has to bargain and threaten but she convinces the doctors to let her take him home. Natasha comes back into his room. "Hey." She comes back over to the side of his bed and reaches for his hand again. "You can come home but they want someone to come check on you tonight and in the morning."
"Hey, I don't care as long as I can go home," he says giving her a smile, squeezing her hand and bringing it to his lips kissing it.
That makes her blush, but she doesn't stop him. "You're going to be a lot more touchy now, aren't you?" Natasha teases gently before tugging her hand away. "I'm gonna go get you some clothes so we can go home."
"You have a problem with me being touchy more than before?" he asks with a slight smirk. Hey, he's trying to make light of what the hell is going on. If he doesn't then it's going to really hit home of what the hell happened. That he can't see. Though he will find a way to do all of this without any help. Her not included in that.
"Never said it was a problem." She brushes her fingertip over his lips before heading out to find him some street clothes. It doesn't take long of course. Natasha knows he's stubborn, but she always know when to push and when not to. If he needs her help, he'll show her he does somehow, just like he always does.
While she goes to get him some street clothes, he sits up. For the time being he's letting his hearing take everything in. The sound of water dripping in the bathroom, which was really annoying. Sound of her footsteps and then dead silence. He didn't like that dead silence. Even if it was something that he was used to. "Tasha?" Because he hadn't heard her come back yet.
She was busy arguing with Fury about taking Clint home. "Hey." Finally she hurries back into the run, a bag of Clint's stuff in her hand. She sets it in front of his hands and looks him over. "Are you OK?" Stupid question really.
Of course it was a stupid question. He moves to rummage through the bag. "Wasn't sure if you were back yet or not. What'd you throw in here?"
Tasha chuckles, smirking slightly. "We'll have to get me a bell for my neck. " She's kidding, she'll simply have to announce herself and not be sneaky anymore. "The usual." She brought Clint the most comfortable of the clothes he had here.
"Maybe we will," he says with a chuckle. He doesn't mean it though. The idea of her actually making noise just doesn't sit right with him. Stripping down he pulls out the shirt and after a moment of figuring it all out without being able to see, he throws it on. Pants next. The shirt, however, might be backwards since his shirts don't have annoying tags to them.
Being louder when she moves doesn't sit well with her either but she'll make that change for him. She watches him, the urge to help so great she actually needs to sit down to stop herself. Natasha won't do anything to rob Clint of his pride. He can handle this fine, it's just getting dressed.
The shirt however is backwards, so Tasha comes closer. "Maybe I'll just make you stay home all the time so you don't have to get dressed." She teases, running her hand down his chest affectionately. "Shirt’s backwards." She says simply. "But you look like you...just like you." Except...well.
She pulls those ever present sunglasses of his from the bag and puts them his hand. "There."
"Of course you'd keep me home," he says with a hint of teasing in his voice. "Just so you could have your wicked way with me." He has to tease or he'll end up; upset. Something he doesn't want to do. Taking her hand that slides along his chest, he kisses the palm of it before switching the shirt around so it isn't backwards. He's going to have to find some way to tag his shirts so he knows they're not the wrong way.
Then she hands him his sunglasses and he takes them slipping them on. "Alright, ready to go when you are."
She knows what he's doing, but she doesn't push him. If Natasha called Clint on this almost excessive cheerfulness she fears he'd only spin into the complete opposite spectrum and she won't let that happen. "You keep that up and I will keep you at home." Tasha pulls her hand away and watches him carefully. They'll replace everything to make things more manageable for him if they have to. She'd do anything to make his life even the smallest bit easier.
"I..." Natasha sighs. Her voice cracks slightly. "I guess this means I get to drive now, doesn't it?" She asks softly, unable to keep teasing him.
"Oh, is that so?" It's asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. They won't be replacing anything if he has his way about things. He'll just have to tag things and maneuver around everything else. "You're gonna have to drive. Unless you want us wrecking."
She nods, then winces because he can't see her nod. "Yeah, I'll drive. Maybe we should get a driver like Stark has." Natasha tries to keep her voice and the conversation light. She can't deal with the harsh reality of this right now and she doesn't want to put that on him. It will only make it harder for him.
"I'm not getting a driver like Stark. We're nothing like him," he says simply. "Nor do I want anyone like Happy. There's nothin' wrong with the guy but no driver. Just you and me." The way he likes it and the way that he wants it.
"I never said we were like him..." She rolls her eyes, happy for once he can't see her do that. "But I see your point." Natasha wraps her arm through his so she can guide him without seeming like she's guiding him. "Just you and me, like always."
He lets her guide him out to the car but pulls away a bit after. After the door is unlocked he slips in, feeling around just to make sure he knew where everything was. The top of the door... the handle, seat belt... anything that he needed to know. "So what do you want to do once we get home?"
She holds her breath as he inspects the car, waiting until he's settled before she climbs into the driver's seat. Natasha starts the car, thinking a moment as she lets it idle. "Whatever you need me to do when we get home, I'll do." He's what matters most right now. What she wants to do doesn't matter much.
"When we get home I just need to walk the place so I can see where everything is," he says looking in the direction of her voice. "This is going to get interesting." To say the least.
"Then I'll walk with you." She promises before squeezing his hand. "As long as it takes."
"Actually, I just want you in one certain spot. Need to use you as a type of starting point," he tells her with a slight smile. That way he could find his way around their home even if it's bound to give him a few bumps and bruises.
"OK." She nods, and winces again. That's going to be a hard habit for her to break. So much of their communication was unspoken and now... "I'll be your anchor." Tasha says softly.
"You always have been," he says softly. "I just need you to be even more now than you were before." Though he shakes his head. "I'm gonna have to learn braille." Or be read to of what the hell is going on. One or the other.
"I always will be." She promises, unsure how she'll walk the tightrope of being what he needs while not stepping over the line and making him feel weak. "They have programs that will read to you. We won't even need to ask Tony to help."
"I wouldn't ask Stark for help if my life depended on it anyway," he says with a slight smile, shaking his head. "Maybe I'll have to look into a program like that." Though that makes him think about that suddenly. "They don't even know, Tasha."
"I'll get you one as soon as we get home." She would rather be the one helping him anyway. When he says that she's silent for a moment, considering things. "Do you want them to know?"
For a moment he just goes quiet because he's not sure. "I... maybe not right now. Maybe in a day or so."
"Then medical can just tell them you're on leave. You can tell them whenever you're ready." She pulls the car over near the diner they usually go to, an idea to help him deal with what's happened forming. "You mind if we make a little stop before we go home?"
"Yeah... they can do that." Unless Fury tells them what in the hell is going on. He closes his eyes in order to try and relax. "No, I don't mind." If she needed to stop a few places then so be it.
She'll deal with Fury. Natasha gets out of the car and moves to the passenger side, opening the door for him. "Clint, I want you to take my hand and just listen, OK. We're somewhere you know very well." She hopes he was paying attention all those times they walked her before.
Well... she hadn't said anything about him needing to get out. It doesn't stop him from taking her hand and slipping out of the car though. The fact that he clipped his shoulder is lost on him. He doesn't feel it. "I know a lot of places very well, Tasha."
"Slow down." She rests her hand on his shoulder gently. She doesn't want him getting hurt anymore than he has, or hit his head. "Just listen, or..." She tugs him towards the door, keeping both her hands on his arm. Natasha guides his hand to the door of the diner. "Here. Does that feel familiar at all?" She wonders if he was paying attention before to the little things like the door.
He tries not to let it bother him when she stops him from hitting his shoulder again. It's weird having her guide him but he doesn't stop her. Then she's placing his hand on a door. He lets his hand slide along the handle, the feel of it... that little notch. "What'd you bring us here for?"
"Because I'm hungry, and you haven't eaten today." And she can't think of a place that will have more good happy memories for the two of them that aren't sight related. The smells, the tastes, the way the booths feel, the way the diner sounds. She's hoping it helps him relax, too.
Okay... she had a point there. Luckily he remembers the way the door swung and opens it, taking a hold of her hand. "Okay, I don't want you taking us to our booth. I'm pretty sure knowing you that you've counted how many steps it is and in what direction." He has to but his brain really isn't working right at the moment. "So how many steps?"
Of course she has, usually when she brings him here or vice verse when they're trying to keep normal after a bad day. She gets a bit OCD, but eating here makes them both feel like something is stable when everything else isn't. At least that's the way she feels. Today is one of those days. "25 steps straight, then left and 15 more steps." She's afraid to drop his hand, though.
Alright, he could do this. And her not letting go of his hand is fine with him. Okay... 25 steps straight... he could do that. He starts counting the steps in his head as they go straight. Clint also knows that if he veers off in any way she'll let him know.
She keeps her hand in his, her other arm wrapped around his arm. She won't guide him unless he needs it. Their usual waitress is already setting everything up like they always like it at the table. Natasha is thankful for that. The point here is an environment that's second nature and comforting but still slightly challenging. "We can always get something to take back home if you want." Tasha whispers as she turns Clint slightly to the left to keep him from bumping into a table.
He shakes his head not wanting them to go home just yet. In fact he'd prefer that they stayed right where they were. When she turns him a bit, he frowns. Though he's sure she had a good reason for that. Shaking his head he focuses on the task at hand. Getting them to their table in one piece. Something he manages to eventually do which gets a smile out of him. Now as long as the seats were situated the way they were meant to be...
They are. Natasha made sure of it. She doesn't say a word as she pulls his hand near his usual chair, letting go when he's close enough the back of the chair to touch it. She won't leave his side just yet. Hell, she may end up changing things up and sit on the same side of the table as he is.
He can feel eyes on him but doesn't care at the moment. Not when he needs to make himself remember everything just by touch. So that hand slides down along the chair before he sits down, sitting back. Don't expect him to take off the sunglasses. Even if it wasn't really bright enough to need them.
She doesn't expect him to. In fact she has a feeling she'll be seeing those sunglasses a lot more now. Tasha pulls a chair next to him and takes his hand again. "There. First obstacle overcome."
"You decided to be beside me instead of in front of me?" It's really a rhetorical question more than it is an actual one. He's so used to her sitting in front of him rather than beside him. "We'll just have to get over the second one. Whatever that is."
"Is that alright? I can move." She doesn't want to seem like she's mothering him, but she also wants to support him if he needs it. It's always been a fine line with the both of them, showing they care without looking like they don't trust the other to take care of themselves, too. Tasha notices there's two cups of coffee already there. "Here. See if the second times a charm." Coffee should be easy, she hopes.
"No, you're fine," he tells her with a smile. Though he's not really looking in her direction. Besides he's used to her acting like this. Just not this bad. Well... oh, he's just going to stop before he gives himself a headache. Those hands slide forward a bit though he pulls his hand back a moment later. That had actually hurt. He stays like that for a moment before sliding his hand back out to it.
She knows he's been hurt worse than a burn from coffee, but it breaks her heart anyway. Tasha has to resist the urge to move the cup for him but she knows he has to do this on his own.
Of course he's been hurt worse than some burn from a coffee cup. Hell, he's been shot and stabbed... more than once. With his own weapons at that. He breathes in before breathing back out before reaching back out to the cup, wrapping both of his hands around it taking in the heat of it. "Sugar. Left or right?"
She again has to tell herself not to move the sugar so he can reach it easier. "Clint. Just think a minute, alright. What do you remember about the table? We eat here all the time."
He clenches his jaw because he's really not in the mood to try and think about where things are. So for the moment he's just quiet and closes his eyes behind those shades. If only to picture it within his mind of where everything was at. It was a whole lot harder than he thought and he's not so sure he likes it.
She notices his jaw tighten, closing her eyes a moment as she weighs if she should help him or not. Natasha leans closer, kidding his jaw softly. "Right." She whispers.
To be honest he hadn't expected her to actually tell him where it was. Not when he was trying to remember off the top of his head. He'll remember once they get home or a few days from now. Moving his hand to his right he finds the sugar before moving it as close to his cup as possible. Finding the top of the sugar and the top of his cup, he pours some into it. At least that's how it sounds at any rate.
Natasha can't stop herself from sliding his coffee cup the two inches closer it needs to be to him to not spill sugar everywhere. Hopefully he doesn't hear the cup moving.
Luckily for her Clint doesn't hear the cup move. Otherwise all of this really would've been for nothing. Setting the sugar down he slides his hand over to find the spoon and stirs his coffee. "What do you have planned after this?"
She sighs internally, watching him closely. When he asks she puts on a happy tone even though she's worried. "Pancakes, of course."
"I said after this," he says with a chuckle. "Not while we're here."
"I haven't thought that far ahead." Natasha answers honestly, kissing his jaw again. "I don't think there's a step-by-step plan for this sort of thing."
"Maybe we should go out for a walk after this," he says looking toward the sound of her voice. "Or we can just go home and try to relax."
She looks back at him, forcing her voice to sound happy but it's getting harder with each passing moment. Natasha won't break, however. She won't. He needs her to be strong and she will. "A walk sounds perfect." She figures he won't relax if they go home.
No, what he needs is for her to stop pretending. He needs her to break down if she needs to. Needs her to stop acting like everything is okay. It's one thing for him to but another for her to. He needs her to be her, "Good. Our usual park?"
Stop pretending? She can't. Yes, she promised herself she'd never pull that shit with him once they got together but she doesn't want to let her emotions rule her. She can pretend this isn't breaking her heart. She can. She will not let her emotions win.
Those emotions, however, have other plans. "Sounds..." Natasha's voice cracks slightly, trembling as she speaks the last word. "Perfect."
Yes, stop pretending. That's what she needs to do. He needs to as well but not here. If he does break it'll be in the confines of their own home. Hearing her voice crack though has him reaching over taking her hand, giving it a squeeze. "We don't have to, Tasha."
She knows if she breaks, he may well break and she is not ruining pancakes. She's not ruining their place by acting...like this. When he squeezes her hand she all but bursts into tears. "Maybe tomorrow." She whispers, pressing her forehead to his shoulder. She'll still hide that she's shedding tears, even if he can't see them. "We should go home."
"Well... how about we get our food and then go home?" He can handle the walk taking place tomorrow rather than today. Besides, home sounded good right now. So did food but they could get their food to go.
She nods, wiping her eyes frantically. "I'll go tell them to box everything up." They don't really order after all this time. The waitress just puts the order in when she sees them. Natasha stands, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his temple. "Give me just a second, OK?"
"Alright," he says giving her hand another squeeze. Leaning back in his seat he drinks his coffee. "Take your time," he tells her knowing that she'll need it.
She does take her time, stopping in the bathroom after she requests the order be made to go. Natasha locks the door and before she can stop herself she's sobbing, weeping like a flood gate has opened up. She's so afraid. It's one thing when he's injured, when his bones need mending or a wound needs to be stitched up but this? She's not dealing with this very well. Natasha knows she shouldn't stay hiding for long. She doesn't want Clint to worry.
Clint sits there continuing to drink his coffee and frowns slightly. It doesn't take this long to get their order made up to go. That much he does know. They both time things and this is one of them. Or at least he used to. Right now though he's just going to wait. Maybe she's doing something else as well, he's not really sure.
No, no it doesn't but it does take that long to cry so much your eyes are swollen, splash water on your face to try and make it look like you didn't, and get yourself cleaned up enough to get back to the table.
Which she does, right when the waitress is coming by to drop off the bag of food. Natasha freezes. Clint may not be able to see her but the waitress can. This will be so awkward.
He almost gets up to go after her but doesn't. No, he just waits until his coffee is empty. Though when she comes back he can tell something is up but he doesn't know what. And we're sure the waitress hasn't said anything but she might. There's no telling.
The waitress, to her credit, doesn't do anything but hand over the bag of food. Natasha fumbles to find some cash, handing over more than twice what the bill is. "Keep it." Tasha looks at the waitress with those swollen red eyes and shake her head, silently begging the other woman to not say a word.
Tasha gently puts her hand on Clint's shoulder, her voice perfect calm and evenness. Her face, however clearly shows how much she cried. Her skin doesn't even feel right, red raw and swollen from her tears.
There is definitely something wrong now. He can tell that just by the way she feels. He takes her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the palm of it. When he does there's the faint taste of tears and he frowns. "Tasha?" He may be blind but he's not stupid.
She should know better by now to try and hide anything from him. He's always been a details man and now is no different. Little things, tiny things like tears are giving her away. "Don't." Tasha reaches her hand out to his face, running her thumb over his cheek. "I'll be fine." No, not I am fine, but I will be. She hopes.
Yes, she should know better by now not to try and hide anything from him. Just because he's blind doesn't mean that he isn't himself. Doesn't mean he won't notice all of the small things. "Let me know if you need anything," he says leaning into her hand a bit.
Natasha only wants to protect him, just like she has for so long. She feels selfish that she's so upset by something that happened to him when he's holding himself together so well. She feels guilty for that, and guilty she wasn't there to protect him. When he presses himself closer to her hand and says something so selfless, she whimpers, tears starting to fall again. She sniffs the tears back, pressing her lips forward onto his for a kiss they shouldn't be sharing in public. She doesn't care. She loves him, damn it. No matter what happens, he's still him. He's still everything to her.
"I need you to know I love you," She says softly, her tone pained and guilty. "I need you know know I'm sorry I wasn't there with you to stop this from happening to you."
Of course that's what she wants to do. Protect him like she'd always done. Always tried to do. He kisses her back and shuts his eyes feeling tears of his own behind those shades. "Tasha, stop. You've no reason to be sorry. It was my mission and I should've been paying more attention. I love you too."
Now she thinks this little side trip was a terrible idea. Natasha will always blame herself more than she should for things like this and she will always go farther than needed to try and correct that slight. That's the problem with so much to make up for in your past; you can't ever make up for it.
She wraps her arms around him when he tells her he loves her. She knows it already, but it calms her down to hear it. If he doesn't feel she could have stopped this from happening, that's fine, she'll still blame herself. Natasha will simply have to hide it better. "We should go home."
It wasn't a terrible idea or at least it wasn't for him. For her maybe because it made her realize just how damn... well, made her realize just how real all of this was. She has no reason to blame herself and if he knew that she did he'd have a damn fit because just, no. Not even the Hulk could've stopped this from happening as far as he's concerned. "Home sounds good," he murmurs leaning into her a bit.
She knows it's real. The problem is she can't fix it. The only way for Clint to get through this is to get through it and there's little she can do to help him in her eyes. Making sure he doesn't run into tables? A fucking dog can do that!
Natasha keeps it inside, holding him tightly. "Home." She says softly, pulling away slightly. "Come on."
Yeah but Clint wouldn't get a seeing eye dog. There's no way in hell... unless someone did it for him. Maybe. "Lead the way, beautiful." He can't help but smile a bit even as he takes her hand and lets her get them out of the diner with their food.
She won't be going to get him a dog anytime soon. They'll consider that if they need to. "Flatterer." Natasha teases as she takes the lead to get them out of the cafe and back to the car. Home. That's what they both want and both need. Someplace safe they can deal with this together.
Once in the car he leans back in his seat shutting his eyes. Somewhere in all of the excitement he falls asleep. So far he's fine but that doesn't mean he will be. The mission that made him lose his eye sight could easily become a nightmare for him. He's racked up quite a few of those by now.
She'll let him sleep of course, once she notices he's out. He gets so little even now that that they have some stability in their lives in each other. Natasha drives around, her own thoughts very troubled until she burns up enough gas that they need to go home.
"Clint? Wake up, we're home." And she'd not going to tell him they drove around for longer than they needed to, either.
When he wakes it's with a bit of a start and for a brief moment he forgets that he can't see. But only for a brief moment. "How long was I out?" Even as he asks he reaches over taking a hold of the door handle and opening the car door. He steps out and stops short. Exactly where had she parked them at?
"A while, maybe-" She stops and practically leaps from the car, not wanting him to get disoriented or worse. "Clint." She brings her hand up to his arm. She doesn't want to tell him they qualify for handicapped parking now so she used it to make things easier. "We're right in front of the lobby door, we just need to go straight a ead, alright." That of course will give away their 'new' parking spot. She gently turns him so they can walk straight to the door.
When she touches his arm and tells him where they were, he frowns. "Why did you bring us all the way here?" It's asked even as he turns toward her voice. Why in the hell would she pull them right... this close to the lobby door. Why so close to their building? Just because he's blind doesn't mean that he can't walk. Then again he's going to need to get used to a few things now. Things that just... He knows she means well but this is too much too soon.
"I..." She looks at him frown and shakes her head. She really needs to stop doing that. "Just this once. I'll move the car once you're settled inside, I promise." Natasha hadn't meant to make him feel weak. That's the last thing she ever wanted. "I just want to help you." She says softly.
"Moving the car closer to home isn't helping," he says shaking his head. That just put them closer to the damn building. "Alright." He'd get out sooner or later and just count the steps. Figure out how far away their car normally is. Right... straight ahead. He was hating this damn problem more and more now. But he does start toward the lobby door.
"I'm sorry." She knows Clint doesn't like her apologizing so much but she can't help it. She's afraid of making things harder when she's trying to make things easier. Then he starts walking. She keeps her hand on his arm, not saying anything more.
It's easier for her but not for him. Or at least that's how he sees it at any rate. And, no, he doesn't like her apologizing. She has no reason to do so. He reaches his hand out running it along the door before finding the handle. "How many steps?"
That would only make her feel worse. For so long she didn't understand him the way she'd wanted to, then finally she started to make a bit of headway. Now..."46, I think." She doesn't know and she hates herself for not knowing.
"To the stairs or the elevator?" Because right now he really didn't care. Though to be honest he doesn't want to head up the stairs. "Just walk and we'll count it," he murmurs sticking close to her.
"Elevator." She can practically feel his frustration. Natasha closes her eyes, reminding herself that they've handles worse together. Ok, maybe they haven't but they can do this as long as they're together. She takes a step forward, her voice rough. "One."
"Alright," he murmurs. He closes his eyes and then opens them again. Another step and another. Two and three... As they walk he counts out loud. Making sure he remembered how many it was. And hoping like hell he didn't get any of this confused.
She will be recording this somehow for him. Perhaps an MP3 track from him to listen to. She's not sure. The doorman opens the door from them and it's not far to the elevator. Only 45 steps total. "You want to hit the button?" She asks softly.
There's a slight smile out of him and he wraps an arm around her. He lets his hand slide over the panel finding the button before pressing it. Now all they had to do was wait. Once inside the elevator he moves back against the wall. "Take us up."
Natasha pushes the button to close the door, thankful they're alone in the elevator. She doesn't take them up just yet. She moves closer to him, putting her hand on Clint's cheek. "I'm proud of you." She says earnestly. "So proud of you, baby. More than I even have been in my whole life."
Clint leans into the touch a bit and gives a small smile, "I can handle that." Even if it sounds weird to have her tell him how proud she was of him. He could handle it though. He's pretty sure he can anyway.
Maybe she doesn't tell him enough that she's proud of him. She is, she always has been and his bravery in this only compounds that. "Good." She moves away to press the button to take them up before coming back to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly.
Perhaps it is what compounds it but right now he's not feeling brave. Then again he's not fully broken down over any of this yet. Something we're sure he's going to avoid doing at all costs. Breaking down isn't an option. He needs to keep himself together. He'll need to map everything out or do a few... well, he'll just have to fix a few things the way he needs them. To keep from getting confused.
The elevator stops gently. Tasha unwraps her arms from around him and takes his hand again. "We're home." She says softly.
"We should make some coffee, sit down and eat," he tells her. "Now that we're home." He'd turn around and explore their home in a bit. Just not right away.
"I'll get everything set up." She doesn't want to let go of his hand yet. "Do you want to sit on the sofa or..." Natasha will let him decide. She's just offering suggestions.
"The sofa sounds good," he says with a slight smile. He knows where it's at but he knows there's a table nearby. "Why don't you go get those coffees." Even as he says it he moves towards the direction of the sofa. Hopefully he doesn't run into anything.
She lets his hand go, forcing herself to move into the kitchen. Natasha reminds herself not to smother Clint. He needs to do this himself. He's had worse than bruised shins before.
Of course he's had worse before. He gives a slight grit of his teeth when he catches the edge of the table and then moves around it, fingers brushing over the surface. He could do this damnit. Every surface gets his fingers ran across it before he sits down in the sofa, leaning back. Much better.
Natasha busies herself with coffee and plates and what they'll need for pancakes. She glances towards the living room and the couch a moment, then sighs. "Fuck it." She says to herself before picking both plates put to bring them to the living room. "I think we should eat in here." She says cheerfully. More comfortable, don't you think?"
"Eating in here would be more comfortable," he says looking toward the sound of her voice. If only because he isn't getting back up any time soon. Nor does he want to. "You going to be okay?" And don't lie to him.
Now that they're home, that they're safe and no one can see her break she is honest with him. "I'm scared." Natasha reaches her hand out to his face, to the sunglasses covering his eyes. "I'm scared you'll..." She shudders, her fingers trembling as she pulls the sunglasses away. "This changes everything, Clint. When if it's too much for us to handle?" She's not afraid this will break him. She's afraid it will break them, and it's so selfish she wishes that she hadn't admitted it once she has.
"Why're you scared?" It's asked before she can continue. He pulls back a bit when she takes off his sunglasses. "It doesn't change a damn thing, Tasha." He wouldn't let it change anything. "There's nothing we can't handle." Not as far as he's concerned. He doesn't want to let it... "Lets just eat."
She swallows and nods, wincing once again. "OK." She says softly before she slides his plate closer to him. There's a fork and napkin near the plate, too. Natasha's appetite is all but gone now, though.
He finds the edge of his plate putting it in his lap. The napkin gets set aside as the fork gets picked up and he starts in on his food. "Mmm... this is good." She should eat. She's going to need her strength.
Natasha can't help but fear he's going through the motions to try and make them both feel comfortable. "Yeah," She says softly, nibbling on a piece of bacon. "We should have decided to do take out before today." God she hates small talk, so much. Especially with him.
"Why do you say that?" he asks with a raised brow. "Take out is good some days. One of us should make a home cooked meal though." Though really that would require him re-learning where everything is at.
"It's just...nice." What she says leaves so much unsaid. Natasha is trying because he's trying, though. She'll support him any way she can. The idea of him with knives and kitchen appliances and fire makes her worried. She doesn't want him hurting himself but she can't say it. "We should. Together." So she can watch out for him. Again, she won't say her fears out loud.
Of course it does but he doesn't call her on it. "Eat, Tasha," he says instead. Though he does lean into her a bit even as he eats. She's a comforting presence right now is what she was. "At some point, yes." However, there would be a point where she'd have to get used to him doing things himself.
"I'm eating." No, she's not. She's watching him and when he leans closer she sets her plate aside. There's enough noise that he'll know what she did. "Why are we pretending everything's OK when it's not?" She asks, her voice breaking.
"No you're not. Now you should eat," he says with a slight shake of his head. Though when she pops off with that, he sighs. "We're not pretending a damn thing, Tasha."
"You're fucking blind, Clint!" She snaps, her voice strained with stress and sadness. "How the hell are you just sitting there eating pancakes like this is fine?" Because she can't...she just can't. Natasha knows she shouldn't push. She shouldn't get upset but damn it, she can't just act like everything is normal.
That plate gets set aside and he narrows his eyes, "I know damn good and well what the hell I am, Tasha! I'm blind but I'm not fuckin' stupid. Everything is going to be fine. You're acting like this is going to change who the hell I am or who the hell WE are. So don't sit there and act like it's going to bother you so damn much. Everything IS fine whether I'm blind or not."
Him looking at her like that now, with his eyes changed is more upsetting than anything. She tilts her head, even though he can't see her do it. "How can this not change you, Clint?" She still glares at him, listening as he speaks, her fear and anger only rising. "Who the fuck are you to tell me if this is going to bother me or not!?" Natasha knows he's the one man in the world who could do that. In fact he's right, everything will be fine, but she's too emotional and afraid to realize it now.
She stands up, shaking her head. "If you think it's fine, that's just great but I'm not fine, not yet." He voice picks up that harsh Russian edge but the fact she's crying should be clear, too. How can he always make her cry? "No one has the right to tell me what I can and can't feel. Not even you."
"And this isn't about you!" he snaps. "This is about me and you being all upset trying to say how this isn't going to be normal is bullshit. It will be normal no matter what in the hell you say. No matter what in the hell you feel or do. So I'm blind big deal. It doesn't make me weak or invalid!" It's snapped even as he stands and moves around the damn table not caring that he's clipped himself with it again. "So tell me what in the fuck you've got to be upset over? Why the hell are you going to sit there and spew to me how everything is going to change? It ISN'T. Nothing changes. Definitely not because I'm blind."
It breaks her even more when he moves away from her, and the fact he hit his leg? Shit... All she does want to do is reach out and protect him. "I never said it made you weak." Natasha says roughly, even though now she realizes the way she's attached herself to his side says otherwise. "I meant what I said. I have never been more proud of you." Maybe that doesn't matter to him, but she is, even if this fight is hurting her. It's hurting him too, she's sure of it because he doesn't get upset like that.
"I FAILED YOU!" She shouts at him so loudly it makes her throat hurt. That's what this all stems from, and it is selfish in it's own way. He gave her a second chance, something she'll never ever be able to repay in their lifetime. "You risked everything for me more times than I can count, and... and I can't even park the car to not make you feel like something's wrong with you!" Natasha wraps her arms around herself, the urge to just run rising up in her. She hasn't felt that in so very long. She doesn't turn from him though. She can't do that either. Natasha needs him, even if he ends up hating her for the way she's acted.
"I am sorry if you are stronger about this than I am, but that's what I feel. I can't explain it anymore than I can explain why I love you or why I'm so damned stupid sometimes when it comes to keeping you safe but..." She sinks down on the sofa, afraid she's made him angry enough he won't even want to touch her. "It is what it is. Just like you aren't going to change...I can't change the way this makes me feel. I wish I could."
And yet she's made him feel like he can't do a damn thing on his own. Yeah, he's going to ask where something is or how many steps. However, that doesn't mean that he needs her to try and make things easy for him. He doesn't want easy damnit. Easy is for the weak. He loves that she's proud of him but he's not done a damn thing for her to be proud of. Except for maybe be himself while this was all happening.
"Failed me?" He asks with a pained laugh. "Failed me? How the hell can you even say stupid shit like that?" He shakes his head moving back a bit not sure what the hell else he hit not caring that it hurt. He needs that pain right now because all of this just... "You have NEVER failed me, Natasha. You couldn't fail me even if you tried. The mission was MINE. Not yours but mine. You couldn't of been there nor would I of wanted you there. The mission is what happened to me. You never failed me."
"Stronger? No, I HAVE to be strong, Tasha. If I'm not... If..." He feels his throat tighten up and he shakes his head feeling the hot tears. "You've got no reason to feel the way you do. I'm not saying you can't feel them but you've got no reason to. You didn't do this. The mission did this."
It's a fine line to walk, helping someone without making them feel like they can't help themselves, and she knows it. She also knows for all her subtle, stealthy and clever ways she can be about a stupid as a brick when it comes to him. It's as though the guy makes all her reason and common sense vanish at times. Natasha is proud of him for being himself, because she knows damn well she's not herself right now.
"It's not stupid." Again she has to force herself to not rescue him when he runs into something else. She wants to tell him he needs to sit down, he needs to calm down but...No. That's not what he needs and she knows that now. If anything breaks they can replace it. "Don't, Clint. Don't invalidate how I feel, please." She pleads softly. "I know it's not logical, or right but knowing that I...that I have someone in this world to strive to be good for, someone who had faith in me when no one else did, that comes with feelings of obligation, doesn't it?" Natasha frowns, adding softly. "Didn't you used to have someone you felt that way about?" She's thinking of Phil. If Clint takes that hint, then great but she can't spell it out. She won't bring up Coulson now of all times by name.
It's more than a fine line to walk. He's never had to walk it that he can remember. Or maybe he has and just doesn't remember it. There's a lot he doesn't remember while he was a carny. Things done with Trickshot, the Swordsman, and a few others. That life was left behind him for a reason. A very painful reason that was neither here nor there at the moment. Though he has to force himself to move now. Has to force himself not to pull away.
"I'm not invalidating anything," he grounds out. "But you're not the one that's hurt, Tasha. I am. And I can't do this if you..." He shakes his head and closes his eyes, clenching his fists hard enough to cause his knuckles to go white. He just... Though the moment she mentions having someone that comes with feelings of obligation... He clenches his jaw because he knows who she's talking about. "You're right... you can't help what you feel." Coulson would've given him an earful for the way he was acting right now. Just that mere thought has those tears coming more.
He leans into her hand on his cheek and just goes quiet, jaw still clenched. "As long as I've got you I can get through this. I need that constant, Tasha. I can't lose that. I won't lose that."
That is another of the things they'll need to learn to overcome together. She turned her back on her country, her old life and a past she'd like to pretend never happened all thanks to him. She hated him at the time but he saved her life. Natasha will never ever be able to go back from that.
"You think that you being hurt doesn't hurt me?" She asks simply. There's no accusation to it like there would have been a few minutes ago. It's a fact. They're together, they're one and what hurts him hurts her. There's no way to make that not happen. She took the biggest risk of her life falling in love with him, and he's worth every single moment. Even now, when she'd coming down from an anger high and questioning how she behaved. He's worth the risk, and always will be.
"I'm not going anywhere." She promises, reaching her other hand up to cup his face and pull his lips down to hers to remind him just how much she does love him. She's been going about showing him all wrong, perhaps she always has but if he can be the kind of man who won't let being robbed of his sight change him, then she can change for him. "We're in this together. Tell me what you need and I'll do it...I promise."
To be honest he's never thought of that. Never thought that if he was hurt it would hurt anyone. It would hurt him, yes, but never anyone else. He's not used to it doing that not since... Well, he didn't mean a damn thing anymore. All that mattered was the woman with him. She was the one that meant something. His be all and end all which was a bit messed up. So when she states she's not going anywhere he can't help but smile.
"I'm scared."
It comes out of nowhere we're sure but he is. He's afraid that he's going to forget what she looks like. What their teammates look like... What if he forgets what he looks like? He can't even... no, he couldn't let himself forget that and yet he wasn't around for him to even...
"I don't know what I want, Tasha."
"I know." She knows him, and herself, well enough to know all this anger and fighting is caused by one thing. Fear. They've both been down this road before, together and separately. It's easier when they're together. "It's OK." In truth she was more upset he was acting like he wasn't afraid. Natasha keeps her arms around him, not saying much else.
She doesn't ask what’s on his mind, she doesn't push, she doesn't do anything until he speaks again. She chuckles warmly, her voice gentle and encouraging. "I didn't ask what you wanted, Clint. I asked what you need." There's a difference and they both know it.
"I don't know what I need, Tasha," he nearly grounds out. "I don't..." He didn't know what it was he wanted or needed. Didn't know if he needed her to... well, he didn't know. "I want to see you," he says softly, smile on his lips but it was a bit tight. He couldn't actually see her but he needed to map her out. Needed to remember every line of her body. Needed to... well, he didn't know. Just knew that mapping her out was more important than anything else right now.
Again her reaction is to try and make this easier, but she stop herself. Tasha reaches her hand up to his face again."It's OK." She reminds him gently. She doesn't promise because that's not a promise she can make. Natasha lets out a pained sigh when he says he wants to see her, closing her eyes to keep tears from falling. It takes a moment for the idea to hit her. She reaches out to pull his hand up to her face before rubbing her cheek against his palm. "You can, you just need to go about it a differently."
It wasn't okay though. Not yet at any rate. Though he wasn't going to voice that. Not to her when she was so adamant about it. Then again why shouldn't she be? He'd been the one doing that and now she was doing it. He brushes his thumb along her cheek before along her cheekbone and down along her lips. Though when he does find her lips he leans forward and kisses her softly.
That's part of being half of a whole, when one them isn't strong the other helps to hold them up. He's done it for her, she's done it for him and this won't be the last time. Natasha doesn't move, she hardly breathes, her own eyes closed as she absorbs the way his fingers feel on her skin. He is still the same; able to make her skin prickle and her breathing catch without much effort. When he kisses her she all but melts against him, all that fear slipping away as she's reminded who he is, who she is, who they are. Nothing can take that away from them.