AN I know that I've said this all before, but I have loved writing this story, and have loved discovering new things about Natasha and myself along the way.

An enormous shout out goes to my two lovely betas; Bess, who has been with me from the beginning, and counseled me on what to do when things began getting dark, and Shaz, who came in without question, but also let me know when things got TOO dark. This story would quite literally be a completely different beast than what it is now without you, and I thank you a thousand times over for doing this with me. And, of course, a thousand kisses and thank yous to the people who have stuck with me and this story, even when things were very, very bad. I promised you all that you would get your happy ending. Here it is.

There will be a companion epilogue to eyes blue like your ice cold heart, so please keep an eye out for that.

And thank you again.

Warning: mentions of child prostitution

"Level Up"

If you are afraid, come forth
If you are alone, come forth now
Everybody here has loved and lost
So level up and love again

Call it any name you need.
Call it your 2.0, your rebirth, whatever-
So long as you can feel it all,
So long as all your doors are flung wide.
Call it your day number one in the rest of forever.

If you are afraid, give more
If you are alive, give more now
Everybody here has seams and scars
So what, level up

And this is all we need
And this is where we start
This is the day we greet
This is the day, no other.

Vienna Teng

they find the little girl on a street corner.

'Nervous' was not something Natasha liked being. She liked to think of herself as in control, master of who she was and how she felt. Lately, however, she had begun to realize just how very out of control everything had been, and started to correct things.

That did not mean she was at all okay with the jitters in her stomach as Clint drove them over to her old part of town.

She watched the street lamps become progressively dingier, the sidewalks filthier, the people seedier. When she saw the first girl on the street, her stomach seized altogether.

Natasha closed her eyes, and let out a slow, slow breath. This wasn't about her, this was about Gracia. She could do this for Gracia.

"Which block does she normally stay on?" Clint asked quietly, and Natasha opened her eyes.

"The next one down," she whispered. "There's at least one other girl with her, watching over her."

"And how long does that last?" Clint asked darkly. It was not a question that he actually wanted her to answer.

Natasha's breath caught when she saw Gracia's silhouette on the sidewalk, and clenched her hands. She wanted to leap out of the car and grab Gracia up at that second, but she forced herself to stay calm as Clint drove straight past. He parked about a block away, then turned off the car.

"The woman that was with her, did she see me go into the boarding house?" Clint asked. Natasha recalled the face of the woman that was standing a ways down from Gracia, trying to remember if she had seen her in the group when she had left.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "She was sick that day. The Landlord…she wasn't there to see you come in."

Clint nodded, and leaned over to kiss Natasha on the temple.

"Alright. I'll be back in a sec, okay? I'll leave the keys so you can keep the radio on. Lock the doors."

Natasha nodded, hardly able to speak as she watched him open his car door and get out. She watched him leave for a long moment, taking in how relaxed he seemed, just as casual as he had been when he first picked her up. Natasha turned back around in her seat. Clint knew how to play this game almost as well as she did.

Natasha hesitated, then climbed into the back seat. She locked the doors as instructed, then folded her arms. The lights inside of the car slowly faded to nothing, leaving her in the dark with the tired chatter of the radio. She closed her eyes and dragged in a breath, striving for the sense that she belonged, that she was just another person that lived in the bad part of town, that this expensive car she was sitting in was just as natural to her as a street corner.

Some people passed by, a few glancing in at her. She gazed ahead like she was too bored to notice them. She changed the station from an obnoxious commercial to some dj she immediately tuned out. Natasha resisted the urge to look around for Clint, instead kept looking ahead, normal as could be.

Conversation approached the car again, the quiet rumble of a man speaking. Natasha allowed herself one look, and felt her heart leap into her throat. Clint was returning, but now he had Gracia in tow. She was quiet and didn't respond to anything he said, mechanical and obedient. Natasha pressed her hand to her mouth, biting back tears, biting back the hard, disbelieving sob that was building in her throat.

She reached over and unlocked the door as they came closer. Gracia looked up at the noise, and then her face hardened. Natasha guessed that Gracia had made out her silhouette, but hadn't distinguished her features. Gracia said something to Clint, the cost is different for more people, maybe, which earned a careless shrug. He opened the back door for her, and Natasha held her breath, nerves suddenly twisting her insides into a giant mess.

Gracia grimaced at the interior of the car for a moment, then got in. Natasha stared at her, waiting for Gracia to realize, waiting for her to look Natasha in the face and recognize her. When the little girl glanced over, she froze. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth opened in a small 'o'.

"Natasha?" she breathed, and Natasha couldn't hold it back any more, she broke into a loud, embarrassing sob and grabbed Gracia into the fiercest hug she had ever given.

"Natasha! Natasha, I missed you, I missed you so much! I wasn't sure if I was going to see you again, I missed you I missed you I missed you," Gracia sobbed into her shoulder, tears soaking in almost instantly. Natasha wanted to speak back, wanted to say something kind and comforting, something that showed how constant Gracia was in her thoughts, but all she could manage was Gracia's name, over and over and over. She barely noticed Clint get into the driver's seat, quiet in the face of their reunion.

"Things have gotten bad, so bad," she said into Natasha's hair. "All of the girls are scared, the Landlord, he-he-he's mean to all of the girls, he's so angry all of the time."

"Are you okay?" Natasha asked, holding Gracia away from her to get a better look. The light in the car had again faded to nothing, but Natasha used the street lamps outside to examine Gracia closely.

The little girl's face was tired, as usual, but Natasha couldn't see any sign of a bruise or cut. She held Gracia's shoulders, hating the way her expression darkened.

"I'm okay," she mumbled.

"No, hey, are you okay? Has he hurt you? Have any of the other girls done anything to you?"

"The girls are mean," Gracia said, shrugging. "But they…I don't know. They're always mean."

"But not because of me? Not because you were close to me?"

"No. Rae's got it worse, though."

"Okay, okay," Natasha said, closing her eyes. She opened them again, dread starting to abate. "But the Landlord hasn't hit you?"

Gracia looked at her for a long moment, but it wasn't like she was trying to decide how much to tell Natasha. She was reappraising her yet again, trying to discern just what had changed.

"No," she murmured. "He hasn't hit me."

"Hasn't done anything to you?"

"He's…he's yelled, and I guess thrown some things. But nothing got me."

"Okay," Natasha repeated, and hugged her again. "I missed you so much, Gracia, so much."

"Why are you here, though? What if he catches you?"

"We're here for you, Gracia," Natasha told her, breaking into a big, teary smile. Gracia's eyes widened, as though she couldn't believe what she was hearing. She licked her lips, and frowned.

"Here…here for me?"

"Yes. I told you I'd come back, I promised. And I wanted to tell you that we have a plan?"

"Plan?"

"Yes. We're—" Natasha glanced at Clint, gathering her strength. Gracia's eyes flicked in the same direction, but she didn't turn around. "We're going to try and stop the Landlord. I won't tell you the details, just in case, but I want you to know that we're getting you out."

"Right now?" Gracia asked, perking at the thought. Natasha bit her lip, hating the thought of stalling this girl's freedom yet again, but she shook her head.

"No, Gracia, not right now. I wish I could, I really, really do, but…you've got to wait. Just two more days, alright? Two more days, and then we'll be right here to take you home."

"Home?" she whispered, like she was tasting the word for the first time. Natasha nodded, breaking into a smile as new tears pricked at her eyes.

"Yes, honey, home. Clint and I, we want you to live with us. I am so sorry we can't take you now, but if you leave, the Landlord might suspect something."

Gracia clicked her teeth together and nodded. "Okay."

"Do you understand why? I don't want you to leave, not again, but we have to make sure that he can't do this anymore. Please, Gracia, I don't want to ask, but—"

"It's okay, I can do it," she said, giving a brave smile. "When—when will you come back?"

"In two days, so tomorrow, then the day after that. It'll be just like this, you'll go out like normal, and we'll come pick you up."

"Same place?"

"Yes, same place. I promise we'll come get you."

Gracia nodded, and hugged Natasha again.

"Please don't be late," she whispered into her ear, and Natasha had to bite her cheek to keep from letting the tears fall.

"I swear we won't. Do you believe me?"

"You came back this time, like you told me," Gracia said, sitting back. She wiped her nose, and nodded. Natasha brushed a lock of hair back from her face, trying to make up for the words she would have to say next.

"You—you should probably go back," Natasha said, nodding at the street outside. Gracia glanced back through the window, but stayed still.

"Do I—just a few more minutes?"

"Of course," Natasha said, and let the little girl settle against her side. She dragged in a breath, her soul aching for this to be real, for this to be them finally whisking Gracia away, for them to be free.

Natasha's eyes found Clint's, and he gave her a quiet smile. She smiled back, desperately praying that she would not break into breathless, pathetic sobs. Not now, not when she had to ask Gracia to be strong as she sent her back into chaos.

Eventually, Gracia straightened and smoothed her shirt. It hurt Natasha, seeing the way the little girl pulled her own form of ice into her eyes.

"Be careful," Natasha whispered, smoothing her hair. Gracia nodded, and gave her one last hug, then carefully got out of the car. Clint got out as well, calling for her to hold on. Natasha closed her eyes when she saw him pull out his wallet and give Gracia a few large bills to seal the deception.

That night in bed, Clint and Natasha held each other very, very close.

her stomach is tight for the next few days.

Natasha made herself not think about just how devastatingly wrong things could go while she waited for the day of the raid. If she did, if she allowed just the tiniest anxiety to control her thoughts, suddenly she would be unable to move. So instead, Natasha did productive things.

She continued her regimen of cooking and cleaning, but now included the spare bedroom. Natasha opened the windows, aired out the bed, cleaned off the accumulation of dust, and strived to make the place seem like it was meant for Gracia, and Gracia only. Natasha had wanted to go out and buy some clothes for the little girl, so that she wouldn't be forced to experience the same overwhelming onslaught that Natasha had, but the fact that she had no idea what her size was kept Natasha from bringing the subject up to Clint.

Clint seemed to be as nonchalant as ever, like nothing particularly unusual was about to happen. Natasha initially thought that he was perhaps more in control of himself than she was, but then she remembered that he had perfected his own sort of pretend. She had seen the hard, devastated look in his eyes as he had watched Gracia in the street. He wanted her out of there, just as much as Natasha did.

The day before the raid, Natasha received another call from Detective Goldman. She was surprised when she heard his voice on the other end of the phone, and instantly her insides clenched. They couldn't do the raid, the Landlord had caught wind of the plan, something had gone terribly, horribly wrong, and it was all Natasha's fault, it was all because she had been so arrogant as to think she could wander back into her old, abysmal world and pluck Gracia out of there.

"Miss Romanoff, good morning," he said, and Natasha squeezed out a hello. "I was just calling to iron out a few more details about the raid tomorrow."

"Details?" she managed, then swallowed down the rest of her anxieties. "What-what details?"

"This…eh, well, it's a discouraged thing, but if you want to be there, at the time of the raid, or at the precinct when we take that bast—Calvin Hughes in, then…you can."

"I can be there?" she asked, a little surprised.

"Yes. As long as you're back away from the action and don't get involved, you can come watch."

Natasha considered standing there in the street as the police shook out the rat's den, as they hauled the Landlord and his prostitutes out into the road for all to see. She could be there to watch as the Landlord's kingdom came tumbling down, to see his face when he saw it was her doing this, the girl he had abused and misused for far, far too long.

"No, thank you," she said, leaning back against the counter.

"No? Are…are you sure? I promise no one would bother you."

"No, I'm certain. I just…I don't need that." She could hear Detective Goldman's slight disbelief humming through the phone. "I…I don't need to see that. I'm getting all I could want as is."

Detective Goldman was quiet for a moment, then he cleared his throat.

"Alright," he said softly. "I—I understand your decision."

Natasha smiled and thanked him for the offer, then hung up the phone. It was always a strange thing to her, feeling someone else's respect.

they go and save the little girl.

Natasha didn't need to stand there and watch the Landlord be arrested, but she did need to go back and get Gracia. Mere hours after her talk with the detective, Natasha found herself in the backseat of Clint's car, waiting, waiting, waiting. She smoothed her hands over her lap, hardly able to stand the quiet of the world around her. It didn't feel like it should be so quiet, it felt like the whole world should be chattering and talking and discussing the perils of what she was doing.

Natasha glanced back, and felt her stomach relax when she saw Clint and Gracia once more approaching the car. Gracia still didn't look comfortable next to Clint, but she also wasn't maintaining strict distance from the night before.

She held her breath as Clint again opened the door for Gracia, and she climbed in beside Natasha. Instantly, her arms were wrapped around Natasha's neck, and the little girl was sobbing incoherently into her shoulder. Natasha held her tight, hardly able to believe what was happening as well.

She didn't cry, though, until she realized that Gracia had brought Natasha's puzzle box along, and nothing else.

"Come on," Natasha whispered to Gracia, "let's go home."

Natasha held Gracia, all the way back to Clint's house. She met Clint's gaze on the ride back, and almost sobbed at the buoyant relief reflected back at her in his face.

she helps the little girl recover, the way she had just weeks before.

No one said anything as they went inside. Gracia stared openly at the townhouse, quietly awed by the expensive décor and the clean, welcoming feeling of the building. She stopped in the middle of the room, and Natasha could see renewed tears in her eyes.

Clint quietly stepped around the pair of them, allowing them to have this moment to themselves. As he passed Natasha, though, he touched her on the shoulder as if to say well done.

"Come on, Gracia," Natasha said softly, "let's get you cleaned up."

Natasha led Gracia upstairs to the guest bathroom, and helped her clean off the grime from the boarding house. It was a hauntingly familiar routine, only last time it had been Gracia taking care of Natasha, and the door had been locked, and gangers roamed the halls outside, and they were both very, very unsure of what lay ahead. All of that had changed, now.

Natasha turned on the shower, and helped Gracia out of her clothes. She washed her hair, pointed out a missed patch of soap when Gracia rinsed off, didn't comment on the bruises or the skin stretched a little too tight over her bones. It was a ritual of silence, a vigil welcoming in a new era for the two of them.

It was strange, though, for Natasha to walk through her past that way. Natasha remembered keenly the dull, mechanical way she had done this exact thing, slipped beneath the water and scoured the Landlord's filth from her bones. Maybe it was easier for Gracia, though. Maybe it was exhaustion making her quiet, and not the painful process of realizing what it meant to be human. Maybe she would do so much better than Natasha could ever hope, because she wasn't tearing away the layers and layers of the Landlord's depravity to reveal a small, terrified, pathetic creature underneath. Maybe Gracia would do so much more than Natasha ever could, because she had less damage to heal. Natasha hoped very, very much that that was true.

Gracia didn't cry. After the first few shocked tears over having a home, Gracia's eyes remained dry. There was a numbness in her face that Natasha knew very well, a hollow surprise and confusion at being allowed the chance for such happiness. She expected the little girl to have an anxiety attack over the concept of a home and freedom and anything, same as she had, but Gracia stayed quiet. She fumbled through the motions of getting ready for bed, as though waiting until her mind accepted a stronger emotion.

Natasha handed Gracia one of the thick, wonderful towels on the rack. She wrapped it around herself and stepped out of the shower, then stood on the bathroom mat for a moment. Her long dark hair hung in wet clumps around her face, and the light cream towel made Gracia's shoulders look hunched and defensive. But her eyes, though, they were completely clear. Clear and asking if she could really, really have all of this.

"You dry off, and I'll get you some clothes," Natasha whispered, smiling and putting a hand on Gracia's arm. Gracia nodded, and watched Natasha leave the small bathroom. Natasha hurried as she thumbed through the clothes in her bedroom, and finally settled on one of her own plain t-shirts. She carried it back to the bathroom, and smiled when she saw Gracia drying off.

"Here," she said, holding out the shirt, "put this on when you're dry."

Gracia dried off and got dressed, and then let Natasha brush her hair. Like before, she stayed perfectly still, careful to soak up every bit of love and attention that fell from Natasha's fingers. Natasha worked her hair into a long braid, and then gave Gracia another fierce hug.

"Look," she murmured, pointing at the mirror. Gracia glanced over her shoulder, then turned back, confused. "No, I really want you to look," Natasha said, turning her body so that she could see her reflection full on.

Gracia stared at herself, dark eyes dragging themselves across her features. She was silent, but a slight crinkle formed between her eyebrows.

"That's you, now. And she can be anything," Natasha whispered, and squeezed her shoulders. Gracia reached up and held Natasha's hand, eyes never leaving her own face.

"That's me," she repeated.

Natasha showed Gracia her room, and privately delighted in the wonder on the little girl's face. The guest room was larger than any of the rooms in the boarding house could hope to be, and thanks to Natasha's efforts, was infinitely more welcoming. Gracia sat on the bed and clenched her hands into the hem of Natasha's shirt, drinking in the book case, the neat bedspread, the tidy dresser, the soft stuffed elephant that sat on her pillow.

"This is mine?" she whispered, like speaking any louder would make it less true.

"Yes," Natasha laughed, "yes, this is all yours."

"Where…where will you sleep?" Gracia asked quietly. Her tone was striving to be casual, but Natasha noticed the way her grip on her hem tightened.

"I normally sleep in my room with Clint. But if you want, I can spend the night in here with you."

Gracia nodded quickly, and her hands relaxed on the shirt. Natasha smiled, and smoothed a hand over her hair.

"Let me change, then I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay," Gracia said. Natasha could feel her eyes on her back as she walked into her room.

Clint was in already in their bedroom, and was getting ready for bed. He smiled at her, expression tired but pleased.

"How's she doing?"

"She's alright. It—it's going to take a while to be completely adjusted, but…she's alright."

"Good," he said, nodding.

Natasha hesitated in the middle of the room, a little lost as to what to do now. She knew she had to get ready for bed, then she needed to go back into Gracia's room as promised, but her brain was stuttering on what exactly needed to be done. She ran a hand over her face, wondering how she had managed to get this far in the first place.

Natasha heard Clint walk across the room, but she didn't expect him to pull her into a hug. She stayed stiff for a moment, then melted against his chest. It almost hurt, how nice it was to have someone else hold her up.

"You're doing so, so well," he told her, voice soft and proud and the only thing she needed to hear. Tears starting forming in her eyes, but at this point, Natasha didn't even bother to blink them back.

"It doesn't feel real," she confessed, which earned a small laugh from him.

"That will go away, and then you'll realize what amazing things you've just done."

"Thank you for helping me," she said, and she felt him fall still. Natasha waited, aware that Clint had stopped breathing.

"You're welcome," he said, voice catching in the middle. "There has been nothing I've wanted to do more than to help you, and make you happy."

"Thank you," she repeated, words coming out in shuddery segments as tears stopped up her throat. She gave Clint one last squeeze, then pulled back. "I promised I would sleep with her, tonight," she explained, wiping at her eyes. Clint nodded, running a hand through his hair.

"Go on, then, don't want to keep her waiting."

Natasha smiled at him, then began changing into her pajamas. Before she left, though, Clint caught her hand.

"Hey," he said, then hesitated. "I—I love you, okay?"

Natasha blinked at him, trying to understand the words for a long, slow moment. Then she broke into another wide smile, and held his hand in both of hers.

"Thank you, and…I-I love you."

Those words would have been strange to hear, once. They would have been odd entering her mind, and even more so leaving her tongue. Just a few short weeks ago, they would have spun her into a panic attack that she would barely admit to having, much less the reason why. But now, at three o'clock in the morning, with a little girl in the next room and an impossible accomplishment coming in just a few short hours, they felt right. Natasha had loved him for so long, longer than she had even realized she knew what love meant, that it was hardly a surprise to hear the words coming from her own voice. And it was hardly a surprise to hear them coming from Clint, after the care, the patience, the honest remorse he had all given to her, for her, because of her.

Clint broke into her favorite smile, all little boy blue eyes and honest happiness. He gave her a quick kiss, then touched her arm in a sort of farewell.

"Okay. Okay. Well, then, go ahead. G'night."

"Good night, Clint," she whispered, and left the room.

she knows now that she can do this.

The next morning, they all woke up late. Natasha awoke to find Gracia curled into her side, arms wrapped around her as if to never let her go. She managed to convince Gracia to let her go, however, when a real, honest breakfast was promised downstairs.

They moved out of the room, Natasha making a brief detour to pull Clint out of bed. Breakfast was eggs and pancakes, which were made in the sleepy, contented quiet of cooking food and a quiet radio. Gracia watched Clint and Natasha work in the kitchen, but eagerly hopped up to set plate settings for all of them. Clint had a genuine lightness in his eyes when he teased Natasha, and Gracia even cracked a few smiles while they ate. Natasha felt happy, very, very happy for the first time in a long time.

Things weren't perfect, though, not yet. Gracia was still too thin and too quiet, and never let herself stray too close to Clint, but Natasha didn't mind. She deserved time to heal, just like Clint and Natasha had.

After breakfast, they all piled onto the couch to watch the human interest news show Clint liked. Natasha rested her head on his shoulder, and Gracia curled up on Natasha's lap as a cheery reporter discussed the best barbecue restaurant in the country.

The raid on the boarding house would be happening soon. The Landlord would be caught and the girls arrested, but ultimately freed, and Natasha would have finished what she started. Natasha's breath caught at the thought of having caused so much, as the consequences that were sure to follow. She made herself inhale, and then let it back out. She could do this. She could face whatever it was the Landlord's lawyers had in store for her, she could handle whatever came up after that.

Natasha settled onto the couch, and stroked Gracia's hair, and held Clint's hand. She wasn't interested in that, just now. She was more focused on enjoying the fact that she had made her own sort of normal.