Clint knew better than to argue with her, but Natasha was relieved all the same when he relented. Although she was certain he hadn’t truly given in, she didn’t have it in her right not to fight with him. The true fighting would be done in front of Fury when they both pleaded their cases to the Director, Natasha to shoulder some of the blame and Clint to take it all.

Squeezing his hand in hers, she could see the exhaustion written all over him. It was in his voice, his expression, his very stance. He probably hadn’t left her side since she went unconscious.

“Anything is possible,” she said, one corner of her lips curling up slightly. “Probable, though...”

Maybe now he could rest, not just his body but his mind; now that he saw her awake, heard that she sounded like herself, that she could still berate him or tease him, whatever was required. She wished she could take all of his guilt away but she hoped that this at least would be enough to alleviate it somewhat.

“Well, if I’m going to be here a while why don’t you go get some rest? You really do look like hell.”