AT SOME POINT, THEY'D RETURNED TO THE TOWER. The loss of losing another teammate hung depressingly over everyone's heads, driving them away into secluded areas.

Natasha was vaguely aware of the people around her splitting off.

After stumbling out of the suit once he had landed, Tony dragged Harley into a bone crushing hug that had been tinged with sheer relief and silent assurances. The teen had clung to Tony almost desperately, his entire body shaking as he pressed himself as close as possible to his mentor before breaking down and beginning to sob silently into the man's shirt- Natasha had looked away when she saw the quaking shoulders and the tear trails. It wasn't any of her business as the billionaire gently coaxed Harley into the lab and locked the doors behind them.

Vision had Wanda firmly tucked under his arm and they were talking in hushed voices as they disappeared out of view and towards the living quarters without looking back. Natasha caught the sounds of a promise as they rounded the corner before she actively blocked out the conversation.

Beside her, Thor and Bruce were brushing shoulders and discussing the loss of Barton. The urge to scream worked its way up her throat before she squashed it down and walked away.

Steve's eyes were heavy on her back as he watched her go. She didn't turn to look at him.

However, Natasha did notice his aborted move to follow her in a reflection as she slipped around the corner; she was silently grateful when he muttered something to himself about contacting Fury and May Parker. The assassin wanted to be alone- needed to be alone. She could feel the usual iron clad control over her emotions crack the more she suppressed them.

When she finally entered the confines of her bedroom, much needed air flooded her lungs.

Though, the ability to breathe did nothing to quell the overwhelming weight sitting stubbornly on her chest as she entered the bathroom on autopilot, only noticing the shake to her hands when they latched onto the sink in a white-knuckled grip.

A blank, emotionless expression swept over her face before it fractured.

Realization of the loss gradually seeped into her body and mind as she blinked at her broken reflection- she stared at the tears threatening to fall that she held back by will power alone. Natasha didn't know how long she stood there, studying the defeat in the curve of her shoulders and the hopeless glint to her eyes; but her body was suddenly lowering itself to the edge of the bathtub as if it could no longer support her weight now that the world was crashing down.

Only then did she realize the burning feeling in her throat.

Feebly, she pushed back her hair as a crushing sense of grief passed through her, causing the woman to hunch over while her body was racked by a sob. It came out as a strangled, inarticulate cry before she bit it back- Black Widow's don't cry. Don't break. Don't fall to pieces on the bathroom floor.

The searing pain in her chest fought that mentality as she clutched at it with a bruising severity as if that would make up for the gaping hole she felt there, daring to swallow her whole.

Everything was too much.

Now she understood- was painfully aware- why the red room had destroyed the possibility of motherhood, tainted the idea of a family and made it a near impossible feat to achieve. It felt like someone was tearing her insides out and then stuffing them back in again and again and again on a vicious cycle. Nothing mattered but the deafening and undeniable fact that they were gone.

Peter was gone. Clint was gone. And she was left there. Alone.

They hadn't exchanged weapons before Barton was taken. It was a standard mission, and it was just a stupid, silly superstition that shouldn't have meant anything- but it did. The small ritual meant the world and now Natasha had no promise that he was going to return. That Clinton Francis Barton: the most stubborn, annoying and one of the best men she had ever known, was going to come home.

Anger bubbled under her skin when she heaved in a broken breath.

Natasha clenched her jaw and shakily wiped at her cheeks, they felt flushed and hot beneath her fingertips. Her previous resolve that had shattered into fragments was shoved to the side as she built up a new one, on shaky foundations made from grief and anger.

The woman refused to let them go without a fight. They were her family. Her home. There was nothing to return to if she didn't have them- she was all in.

Despite what people whispered around her, Natasha Romanoff did possess a heart- but it had been torn out the moment Peter had disappeared and she'd chased after him. The remnants had then been burned and the ashes lost when Clint's voice didn't come back on the comm system, leaving only a foreboding silence behind in its wake.

As the sadness crashed into her again, squeezing her lungs with the familiar feeling of drowning- Natasha forced in a breath, her mind settled. Hydra would learn not to take the people she loved.

Hydra would learn to fear- not the Black Widow- but Natasha Romanoff herself.

A/N

I really hope I did Natasha justice because I didn't want her to have like, a full melt down and be sobbing on the bathroom floor because I don't think she'd do that. But I did want her to have a strong emotional response and not be like a stone wall. Ya know?

Anywho! Let me know of any spelling mistakes! xoxo.