Cannot Fix.

While under the Tesseract's spell, Clint is made to brutally attack Natasha. She has a very hard time coping. Rating for language and sexual violence. AU. Not sure how many chapters there will be.

Thank you all so much for the reviews so far. I'm half sorry for the last chapter being so short and ultra-angsty. This wasn't meant to be a long fic, so worry not - your confrontation is on its way. Last Chapter.

The dreams were starting to change.

When she did catch some sleep - enough to dream at all, anyway - she usually dreamed of Clint. Those dreams were finally starting to subside. The air around her now felt fluid and physical, flowing around her in the dark void of her dreamscape. Loki stood before her. In an instant, she was collapsing on top of him, hand around his throat, screaming.

"Fucking bastard -"

She tore at his face with her nails. Ripped chunks of his hair out. Disassembled his armor, punching and slapping and elbowing and beating. And yet he wouldn't stop laughing at her.

"So passionate! It's no wonder Barton couldn't keep his hands off of you."

"Fuck you! Fucking -"

Natasha's voice gave up on forming words, and she screamed and howled as she destroyed Loki. She was elbow-deep inside of his body, ripping things out of him. Red, slippery things, organs she couldn't name at the moment. It made her feel better to see his body splayed open. It made her feel better to taste a lick of his blood on her lips, her face stained angry red.

And yet he wouldn't stop laughing. And jabbing. Mocking her and what Clint did, what he made Clint do, it was his fault.

"Why the fuck aren't you dying!" Natasha sobbed in frustration, her arms tiring. Her chest hitched and heaved as she tried to catch her breath and stop crying. Loki grinned. His eyes were blue as Clint's were. Bluer, even, shining too brightly. She shielded her eyes from them and stumbled backward, away from the glare. "This is my dream," she cried. "This is mine. I killed you. I -"

Loki snapped her chin up between his fingers. "Did I not promise you? Did I not tell you that I would have Barton destroy you? Slowly? Intimately?"

...in every way you fear. What she feared was losing Clint. What she feared was losing him, and not ever having anyone else like him. Because there wasn't anyone else like him. He was all she had, when it came down to it. And now, she couldn't even be in the same room as him.

The dream ended.

It was hard. Excruciatingly hard, actually. Somewhere within her were reserves of unshakeable patience, the ability to wipe her face clean of her emotions. The ability to think logically and rationally, to observe everything in a detached way so that she could quickly process any given situation. If she concentrated hard enough, she could find that open, white place inside of her to deposit those emotions for a while, to be pulled out when she saw fit. Mostly when she was in private. It was a gift, and her most valuable asset.

The carefully constructed mechanism inside of her that allowed her to do this had been broken. Smashed to a million pieces. But she found a shred of determination left behind, and did her best to nurture it. She needed it. She needed to build herself back into who she used to be, because a life without Clint was simply not an option.

It was hard.

There were little things she did to build up. Sparring with Steve without having a complete meltdown was a start. She apologized, and he was too kind to press the issue, so he let it go. She put on a brave face.

It got easier the more she attempted contact with the other Avengers. For once in her life, she found solace in company. Nobody tried to ask her what was wrong, but she could see their curiosity. Tony wouldn't even jab at her about it, and although she found it odd, it made things easier. Until Clint pushed her a little in the opposite direction.

He didn't mean to. He came into her room one night, looking worse for wear. Natasha had gained some weight back, some color to her face. Enough to look human again. Clint wasn't quite there yet, and she pondered this as she scanned his pale face and loose shirt.

"Nat."

"Clint."

He moved forward cautiously, as if she'd disappear if he arrived too soon. They said nothing as he sat down, slowly, gently, the mattress on her side barely registering his movements. "Could... could we please talk?" he asked. She stared at him for what felt like an eternity before nodding once. He seemed to relax then, and she could see him warring between relief and fear. "Okay," he said quietly. "I'll wait as long as you need me to."

"Nothing happened." That's what she was going to say automatically, but as the first syllable left her lips, Clint shook his head.

"Sorry," she whispered, staring at the floor. His hand floated to her knee and he grasped it for half a second before she flinched. He snatched his hand away in horror. "Tasha - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just..."

"No, it's... I know. It's okay."

Another long silence stretched between them. Clint had patience much like hers - they needed to, for their profession. Clint could perch in any given spot for hours upon hours, silent and unmoving. It's what she admired about him most. He weathered through many of her moods with ease. Clint would wait as long as he needed to. Clint would wait for her. Warmth flowed up through her belly, comforting and encouraging. This was her Clint. She could do this.

"Okay," she breathed. "You, uh... I mean Loki... He..." Her heart was beating too hard in her chest. She could feel blood rushing to her cheeks, burning there. Her hands shook, so she sat on them. "He forced you on me."

Clint's hand darted over again, but he stopped midair and pulled it back to wipe his mouth instead. "Forced me...?

"We... he... I was taken advantage of." Her voice sounded weak and small in her own ears, barely loud enough to be heard. She chanced a look up at Clint and felt her heart stop as his face went white. She wished she would have kept her eyes on the floor, but now she couldn't look away. He looked as though he were in pain.

"You were raped." Her lips twitched, and he breathlessly added, "I raped you."

Anger surged through her body and she reached out for Clint's shoulder. Her body leaned toward his and she fixed her stare on him, made him look back at her. "No. You didn't... Loki did."

"But..."

"It was Loki's fault."

Clint sobbed as she watched. She wanted to hold him, or kiss him, but she couldn't will herself to move closer. A dull throb made her throat hurt, but the tears wouldn't come to relieve it. She felt numb, and hollow, and wishing she could disappear into Clint and merely live as a cell in his body, so that she could never be without him. And not have to deal with this.

But she wasn't a cell. She was a person, and she was hurting, and her lover and best friend was hurting, and she could feel phantom pain between her legs and in the threads of her facial scars.

In the first few days after the incident, she had fantasized obsessively of this day. The day her and Clint could be normal again. She imagined there would be tears, but that they would be her own. She would have a cleansing cry, and maybe Clint would cry too. And he would kiss her, and be tender with her, and help her forget what happened. But instead, she couldn't find the strength to be with Clint. She couldn't even cry.

Clint didn't leave. He made a makeshift bed beside hers, on the floor. Natasha protested it at first, but he insisted. So she watched him set up sofa cushions and blankets on the floor. He didn't remove anything but his belt and boots. It was then that she felt the first prickle of tears in her eyes, watching him slide underneath the blankets in all of his clothing for her. Her Clint.

When the lights were out, and she was allowing herself to relax, she felt Clint's hand crawl across the edge of the mattress. She found it with her own hand and he gave her a squeeze. "Natasha..."

His voice trailed off, but she could read the rest of his thoughts without him having to say it out loud. So she responded, "Clint..." and thought, I love you too.

It was not my intention for this to end so sweetly. I won't apologize, because this is just the way Tasha and Clint dragged me in this specific story. It was meant to end tragically, but... well. Here we are. So, reviews are totally appreciated, thanks for listening. Half-assed apologies to anyone disappointed!