To all my lovely readers, thank you for sticking with me until the end. I know it's been a long year in the making and I'm sorry for that. I really hoped you've enjoyed. As a side note, my first draft of this chapter was 666 words long. That's sort of ironic. Anyway, if you're looking for a bit more horror, there's another fic I have up called Milky Eyes. Natasha's in that one, too. (along with a group of Marvel characters) It's another Clintasha ship. Check it out!

To those of you who reviewed. Thank you so much. It really means a lot to me. You guys are all so amazing.

Without further ado, here's the end of the road. Hope you enjoy! Let me know!

1...

The water turned off. Time seemed to take forever before the door opened and steam poured into the chilly room.

As her green eyes took in the sight, fear etched itself across her face.

"Did you have fun?" he questioned as he shifted slightly on her cot. From her stiff body, to the fact she'd cut her gorgeous red hair, that probably wasn't the question he should have led with.

He watched her snatch scissors from the sink. "Who are you?"

His brow rose. How could she not know him? "You're kidding, right?"

The make-shift weapon shook in her grasp. "I'm not in the mood for jokes."

"Tash, I—"

"No one calls me Tash," she growled. "Who the hell are you?"

He slowly rose from where he was seated and stepped toward her. "Natasha, it's me."

"No! The one you claim to be is dead. I saw him die!" she snarled and lunged at him, scissors aimed for the jugular.

With a soft breath, Clint adjusted his body slightly. He quickly removed the weapon from her hands before wrapping his arms around him. Her nose pressed into his chest as she heaved in panicked breaths.

"God, Natasha, what happened to you?"

Her breathing pitched into a sob as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Clint…"

Tossing the scissors into the bathroom, Clint pulled her closer. "It's me, Tash. It really is."

"He… He followed me," she cried. "He almost got me. He almost got the cub. I… I shot him. I think I saved her…" She trailed off into sniffles.

"Who's he?" he questioned softly and ran a hand through her short hair.

Her shoulders shook as she began to bawl. Clint had never seen her so broken and frightened. Normally, he considered himself the weaker of the two.

When she'd quieted a bit, he ventured a question. He needed to know who'd been after—and terrified—the Black Widow. "Tash?"

With misty eyes and wet cheeks she looked up at him. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke. "Slenderman did exist."

He gazed at her for a moment in disbelief. If she didn't want to tell him, she didn't have to lie about it. They'd never had that kind of relationship. When she shuddered again, he picked her up and carried her to the bed.

"You need to sleep." He pulled the sheets over her.

"Don't leave me."

He blinked and watched as she moved over; her green eyes pleading with him to stay. After a moment, he climbed in bed beside her. She immediately curled against him as fresh tears graced her cheeks.

"You… You were right," she whispered. "That myth did exist. And so did Baba Yaga. I met her as a child…"

Clint pulled her to him. They'd once had a conversation about myths and she claimed she didn't believe in certain things. To find out she'd actually met Baba Yaga didn't exactly surprise him. They hadn't exactly been close at the time discussion, so she had no reason to be truthful with him. And now, to see her so frightened after he had heard whispers she'd been to Hell and back, her lie seemed small in contrast.

"Doesn't matter who was right or wrong," he said softly. He realized that if it was up to him, she would never leave his side again. "All that matters is you're safe and sound. I'm glad… I'm glad you're alive, Tash."