Title: Symbiotic
Author: SLynn

Summary: As SHIELD decides to work with someone new, the Avengers are learning just how well they really work together.

Notes: Thank you for your patience! Last chapter!


Natasha spent her day at the gym falling mindlessly into her regular workout routine. She left only after Steve arrived and before he could attempt to engage her in any kind of conversation. She didn't want to talk. Not to Steve. Not to Tony. Not to anyone, if she could help it. However, she would not hide. That wasn't how she operated, and it never would be, so after the gym she showered, changed, and headed to the lab for her usual session with Bruce. And, even if she was a little relieved to find him alone, she didn't let it show.

"I wasn't expecting you today," he said with surprise, clearing his throat and twisting in his chair to better face her as she entered the room.

"Why wouldn't I be here?" she asked back at him, logging into the terminal she typically used. "There's no mission, so we work."

Bruce hesitated for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and loading up the program he'd designed to help Natasha weed out any remaining subliminal programming that was lingering in her subconscious. She started it up, shifting through the various pictures in hopes of eliminating any response they might trigger, but after some time grew restless.

Something was wrong.

Sliding off the headset, Natasha moved just enough to catch Bruce in her peripheral vision. Watching him, she realized what was off about the situation.

He wasn't working.

Bruce was facing his station, as he usually was, but he wasn't working. He wasn't typing. He wasn't reading. He was just staring at the image, but she could tell he wasn't absorbing any new information.

"Should I leave?" she asked, startling him out of his thoughts.

"No, that's not..."

"You're angry with me," she concluded, getting to her feet as he let out a weary sigh.

"That doesn't mean you have to leave," he returned, gesturing for her to return to her seat. "You have as much right as I do to this space."

"Not if my presence agitates you," she countered, and she hadn't meant to, but it came out as hurt. Natasha liked Bruce. She considered him a friend. She hadn't meant to upset him or anyone with her actions, but that didn't mean she regretted them. It didn't mean she wouldn't do it all again.

"Tasha, I just don't understand how you could do that," Bruce sighed, standing up and partially blocking her exit in an effort to convince her not to go. "He trusted you," he said, shaking his head. "We trusted you."

"I wasn't making a statement. I wasn't picking a side," Natasha insisted as she folded her arms across her chest. "I was protecting him."

"From what?"

"Himself."

"You and Tony seem awfully convinced -"

"Because we're right," she interrupted. "Clint is..." Natasha said, shutting her eyes briefly as she shook her head. "I know him and I know when something is wrong."

"When you say wrong..."

"Not -" she started, shaking her head in exasperation. "No. Not that wrong," she finished, almost smiling at the look of relief that washed over Bruce's face. "Clint is still himself but... but I know him. I know him almost better than I know myself. He's been off. Lately, it's been worse. He wasn't prepared for a fight."

"He managed."

"Yes," Natasha agreed. "He did. He usually does but... but I'm not willing to risk... I won't lose him to pride."

"You won't lose him," Bruce stuttered, his expression softening as he realized her intentions had been good.

"You're wrong," she whispered to herself, dropping her eyes and turning her head as she mentally added 'one day I will' to that sentiment.

It was inevitable. Natasha knew it. Everyone knew it.

They were on borrowed time, and some days she felt like that time was being wasted. If she didn't lose him to the madness that was their lives, time would eventually do the job. Natasha didn't age the way as Clint. Right now it wasn't an issue, but soon enough... someday it would be.

"Listen," Bruce said, sinking back into his chair and relieved to see Natasha mirror the action, "I can't pretend that this... that all of this doesn't bother me. Even if it wasn't meant to be deceptive, it felt that way. I can't judge your relationship with Clint, or what's right and normal between the two of you. It isn't fair of me to judge it, or you, or anyone... Especially since... It isn't right," he said, waving off the beginning of what was sounding like a confession. "I've spent so much of my life hiding, I hoped this was the one place I wouldn't have to."

"Bruce -"

"Please," he said, shaking his head. "Just listen for a moment and tell me the truth when I've done." Bruce paused to assess the look on her face and waited until she gave him a slight nod of consent. "Thank you," he sighed, stopping again to pull his thoughts together. "I need a promise from you, Tasha. Something... I need you to promise me that there will be no lies between us. No deceit. No shades of gray. No half-truths or white lies. None of that." When her expression changed, subtly - it was always subtle with her, he continued, "Only on my behalf. Only about me. Don't lie to me about me."

"And yesterday qualifies?" she asked, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Yes."

"How?"

"I was surprised."

"And you don't like surprises," she returned.

"I really don't," he said earnestly.

"I'll cancel the party."

"I'm being serious."

"I know," she intoned softly. "I know you are... I'm just trying to connect the dots. If you want complete honesty from me..."

Bruce dropped his eyes before getting back on his feet and pacing the room. Natasha stayed seated, watching his progress around the lab before he returned, crossing his arms but clearly ill at ease.

"He disapproves."

"Of me?" Natasha asked, knowing who they were talking about without needing to ask.

"No," Bruce said, shaking his head in agitation as he bounced on the balls of his feet. "Not of you. Of liars," he tacked on reluctantly.

But Natasha wasn't bothered by the label. She'd been called worse. And she did lie. It was useful and sometimes necessary.

She had other concerns at the moment.

"He knows when you've been lied to?"

"Not like that," he dismissed. Bruce wasn't trying to claim that the Hulk was some kind of lie detector. "But I think-"

"Think?"

"He knows what I know," Bruce admitted.

"He's aware," Natasha stated, and after a pause Bruce gave her a crisp nod. "Everything that happens to you, he feels-"

"I wouldn't go that far," Bruce interrupted.

"But you knew that, didn't you? You had to know he has some level of awareness," she said, troubled by his obvious distress. "The other guy knows us when he shows up. He's familiar with us."

"I always assumed he could sense... You're right," he sighed. "I knew he had some level of awareness but... but for some time now I've... I've begun to realize it's a lot more than that. It's a much higher level of awareness. It's not just my impressions of the people around me, it's my feelings. My thoughts. He knows what's happening even when he's not around."

"How do you figure that?"

"He knew Clint wasn't really dead. No one told him. He just knew."

"Maybe he never knew he was dead to begin with," she suggested.

"He trusted Bobbi the first mission out," Bruce continued. "Maria. Jasper. Carol. Anyone new to the team, he trusts like he knows them and... and it's because he does."

"Bruce..."

"I didn't mean to get so deep into this," he said with a shrug, averting his eyes from hers and leaving Natasha to wonder if he was only referring to their conversation or to more. "I just meant to say that I need you to be honest with me because the other guy is pretty black and white. I don't want him reacting negatively towards you because of any problems we might have. I don't think he will but to be safe... to keep you safe, we need to stay honest with one another. If he's gleaning this information subconsciously or... or consciously, the best course of action is to be open."

Natasha stared at Bruce, uncertain how to respond.

Uncertain if he understood what he'd just said.

The two of them were easily the two most closed-off, secretive, introverts of the bunch.

"That shouldn't be difficult," Natasha finally said with a sarcastic lilt as Bruce looked her in the eyes, paused, and then laughed.

"I don't want to be mad at you," he said after a sobering pause.

"I don't want that either," she relented. "And not because of the other guy," she clarified. "Bruce... I'm sorry if I upset you. None of this... I didn't mean to get so deep into this, either."

After that, things seemed to revert back to the way they'd been. The tension between them was erased and the rest of the day passed by swiftly.

When dinner time rolled around it seemed as if Natasha wasn't the only one bent on opting out of the group meal they usually enjoyed. The Chinese food ordered in, likely by Darcy, had already been broken into, but no one had stuck around the kitchen or dining room to eat. She had every intention of taking off with a plate of her own when Maria and Steve entered the room, momentarily halting her progress with their greetings.

That they weren't ignoring her was something, even if Steve looked a bit reluctant.

Eyeing the single plate of food she'd been carrying, he cleared his throat and finally looked her in the eye.

"Have you talked with Clint?"

Natasha's own eyes followed his and she understood. Steve either thought she'd been bringing Clint a plate to wherever it was he was currently hiding, or if that wasn't the case, that she should be at least trying to find him and force him out.

"Not since this morning," she admitted, catching the concern that flitted across his features.

"I didn't tell her," Bruce said as he entered the room.

"Tell me what?"

"Stark gave Barton an ultimatum," Maria answered as she pulled down a few new plates. "Fess up or get out."

Natasha turned her eyes to Bruce who gave her a sheepish shrug as he mouthed the word 'sorry'.

"I thought you'd talk some sense into him by now," Steve said, still looking concern. While he'd agreed that forcing the issue was the only option left, the later it became, and the less he heard, the more worried over the outcome he grew.

"I've been..." Natasha said, shaking her head with a sigh. "You can't talk sense into Clint."

"That's what I told him," Maria muttered.

"Well, you can talk to him, can't you?" Steve asked.

"I was giving him space," Natasha continued defensively. "If he wanted my opinion -"

"Maybe he needed your support," Steve interrupted.

"Don't," Natasha said sharply.

Steve shut his mouth, aware that Natasha must know best in this matter, but still not liking it.

"I assumed you'd already spoken," Bruce admitted.

Natasha shook her head slightly, not wanting to say that she hadn't seen Clint since leaving the meeting room with Fury. That she hadn't thought to look for him because that's just how things were between them.

If Clint had needed her, he would find her.

And if he didn't...

"Well," Maria said, "it's not like Barton would leave without saying something."

"Clint's been back for awhile now," Darcy replied, having entered the kitchen as the other woman had began to speak. "Tony, too. They're in the workshop if you're looking for them."

"What are they doing in there?" Bruce asked surprised.

"Building things?" Darcy shrugged as she dug into the egg rolls. "I don't know. Something technical, I'm sure. Honestly, I don't know what the heck any of you do around here. Don't care either. I'm kind of paid to not be too nosey."

"Were they fighting?" Maria asked.

"No," Darcy said with a dry laugh. "Why? Are they supposed to be?"

"Everything seemed normal?" Steve asked, momentarily ignoring Darcy's questions.

"Define normal."

"This is ridiculous," Natasha said with a huff, setting down her plate and stalking out of the room.

There was only one way to find out what had or had not happened.

As soon as she was in sight of the workshop, Natasha could see everything was fine. Tony and Clint both appeared relaxed, sitting across from one another. Laughing. They were laughing.

And for some reason, that pissed her off.

Natasha barged into the workshop, crossing her arms and glaring first at Tony and then at Clint.

"Dumpling?" Tony offered, holding up a plate.

"Shut up," she dismissed. "What the hell is going on?" she asked Clint directly.

Clint had the decency to appear ashamed, dropping his eyes and pressing his lips together briefly before glancing at Tony.

"Well," Tony sighed as he got to his feet. "You two obviously need some alone time, and even if this is my -"

"Get out," Natasha said, cutting across his words.

"Okay then," Tony finished, clapping Clint on the back before heading towards the door.

"What's happened?" Natasha asked as soon as she knew Tony was really gone.

"You want to sit down?" Clint asked, motioning to the now vacant seat across from him.

"No," she said with a brisk shake of her head. "I don't. I want to know what this is about. I want to know how it got to the point where you were nearly kicked out of here. I want to know exactly what you are planning and why. And, most of all, I want to know why you didn't just tell me all of this and instead made me come down here and drag it out of you."

"You have a particular order you want all those answered in or..."

"Talk."

"Fine, but you're going to be really disappointed because I can't answer... I can't answer for most of that," Clint said with a shrug. "I don't know how it got this far. I guess the same way it always does; one step at a time. I do one thing, then another, and another... I look up and realize that I'm miles away from where I started and..." he paused, looking over his shoulder and pulling his shoulders up in confusion as he turned his eyes back to hers. "I wanted to tell you, but you make it so damn easy not to."

"Don't," she said, her tone softening some as she finally sat down.

"I'm not blaming you," he returned. "I'm really not. I didn't tell you because I was afraid. That's on me. I just meant that we don't push. I don't push you. You don't push me. It's worked so well for so long..."

"That's only for the small things. We're only supposed to skip the small things."

"And it was. Once. Way back there," he said, gesturing over his shoulder. "It started small but..."

"It was always Phil's job to drag things out of you. I should have tried. I should have realized."

"It's not your fault. Trust me. This is..."

"What is this?"

For a moment, Natasha wasn't sure Clint was going to answer. He covered his face with his hands as he leaned against the table. And then, just as suddenly, picked up one of the comm devices Clint and Tony had been dismantling before she arrived. Turning it over in his hand, he offered her an anxiety-laced smile before letting it fall from his fingertips.

"My hearing," he said plainly, looking her in the eyes as he spoke. "I finally hit my head one too many times. It's been on and off... It started off small and... and it just kept getting worse."

"What?" she asked, confused by his answer. She'd been expecting any number of things but not this. Natasha would never have guessed at this.

"My hearing," he repeated louder. "I can't hear."

"No."

"Yes, actually," Clint said, bemused by her blank stare. "I thought I was the only one going deaf, Tasha. Maybe you should get your ears checked out too."

"You're not going deaf," she said with a brutal toss of her head. She couldn't believe it, almost wouldn't believe it was true.

This couldn't be the problem, and it was too serious an issue for Clint to be so flippant. Natasha wasn't ready for this. Hurt, maybe. His shoulder, his back, his legs; all old injuries she could understand reoccurring. At the worst she'd thought maybe it was his brother.

Natasha wasn't prepared for something more.

"You're right, I'm not going deaf. I'm already about halfway there."

"This isn't funny."

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way because if I don't laugh about it, I'll think about it, and given my track record, if I do too much of that I'll end up skipping my surgery and pretending everything is fine," he replied, his voice gradually rising in intensity and volume with each passing word. "Same as I've been doing and a lot of fucking good that's done."

"Surgery?" she repeated as it finally sunk it that he was serious. More than serious, he was scared.

"They think they can repair some of the damage to my middle ear," he said, sighing heavily as he stopped trying to make light of the situation.

"When?"

"Wednesday. The soonest the doctor can do it is Wednesday if... if I want to."

"What do you mean if? You have to get this fixed."

"It won't... Tasha, it won't fix it. Not completely."

"But there's a chance -"

"We went to three specialists today," Clint interrupted to explain, once more keeping his tone light. "I have hearing loss. A lot of it and it's permanent. End of that story. With surgery, I might regain some hearing or... or it does no good and I've put myself out of commission longer for absolutely nothing. It's a gamble. The good news is that Tony thinks that in a few weeks he could rig up a hearing aid powerful enough to give me actual bionic hearing, although I told him I'd settle for something closer to average."

Natasha held Clint's gaze and could see his smile briefly falter.

Now wasn't the time for questions.

Reaching out, she took hold of his hands and squeezed them in her own. Natasha leaned forward and Clint mimicked the movement until their foreheads were practically touching. Closing the distance between them, she left a lingering kiss on his lips. She wanted to say something, anything to let him know that she would be there for him, but was at a loss.

Natasha combed her fingers over the top of his head, trailing kisses along his jaw, his temple, his forehead. Finally, unable to stand the obstacles between them, she stood up and tugged Clint willingly into her arms.

"You're not alone anymore," she said, leaning back to ensure he could see her face as she spoke. "Neither am I, and we can't pretend to be. Together we haven't been lonely, but that's not good enough. You were right. We deserve more."

"You're not just saying all this because -"

"I'm saying all of this because I love you," Natasha interrupted. "And I know changing won't be easy."

"Old habits."

"That's right," she said with a slight smile, "but I think we've... we've always done what we've had to do. Now I think it's time we do what we want to do. And I want a life. This life. With you."

"With me?" he asked, resting his hands on her hips as she slung her arms around his neck. "I'm a mess."

"And I haven't helped."

"Stop it," he whispered, pressing his lips briefly to her forehead. "You didn't know because I wouldn't tell you."

"I didn't know because I was afraid to really ask," she admitted.

"So we're both messed up," he shrugged. "We'll work on it."

"We can," she agreed, taking his face into her hands and focusing his attention on her as she spoke. "And I'm starting now. You have to have that surgery."

"Tasha -"

"If there's a chance, you have to take it," Natasha urged. "I know you. You'll put it off, delay it and hope it gets better on its own, because you're afraid to risk what you already have. But, I'm telling you, you're not going to lose anything. Not your place here. Not me. Not a single thing."

"It may not help. It might not do any good at all and then..."

"And then we'll see what's next," she supplied.

"And what if I just don't want to do it? It's still my choice."

"Of course it is," she said sincerely. " And if you really don't want to go through it then I'll support you. But I don't want you to say no because you think you can't afford to stop and recuperate. That isn't true. This isn't SHIELD. No one is going to dismiss you because you're not pulling your weight."

"You'd think after spending a whole day with Stark repeating that on loop I'd get it but..."

"Old habits."

"I know you're right," he sighed, "but I still want to think it over. I've been dealing with it for a long time but... but the information is still new. I don't think I've really processed anything anyone has said to me today."

"If you need to talk about it..."

"You really are trying to change," he said with a faint laugh.

"Yes, well... I don't want to lose you. Not to anything. Certainly not to neglect."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to lose you, either. Especially not because of my own brand of stupidity. Next time you ask me what's wrong, I'll answer with the truth. No matter what."

"And the next time you are upfront with me, about something I might not agree with," she returned, "I won't go behind your back to do what I think needs to be done anyway."

"But you'll still do it," Clint said, smiling bigger than before because he knew the answer.

"Change is hard," Natasha sighed, briefly rolling her eyes but unable to keep herself from laughing at the end.

As long as they still had one another, everything was going to work out just fine.

The End


End Notes: I struggled with this for a number of reasons. First, halfway through it I realized Tony would not take any of this "behind his back" stuff very well. Then I realized I could either drag out Clint hiding his problems for the rest of this series (I have no idea how long that will actually be to be honest) or he could trust a little. Obviously, he still needed to be prodded, but ultimately I think it left Clint and Natasha in a better place then they started out in; one I wasn't sure they needed to be in at the time, but now I feel they do. I'm likely taking a break through the holidays, so I hope everyone enjoys those! And thanks again to everyone for reading, commenting, kudo'ing, favoriting - EVERYTHING, I may take forever and a day to reply, but every bit of it makes my day! Also, thank you to my beta, Tripp3235, who reads all of this again and again without complaint. THANKS!