Natasha could sense something different about Nyla-Rose. It was just a few days ago that she'd been so overwhelmingly happy when Steve had managed to break them out of the Raft, but things weren't the same. She knew it wouldn't be after everything that had happened, but Natasha often scolded herself for trying to make Nyla-Rose live such a sheltered life. To shield her from the one she had to live. As a mother, she wanted what was best for her daughter, but how could she give her that when all she wanted to do was protect her?

Now, she sat at Clint's dinner table with her hands wrapped around a warm cup of jasmine tea and her thoughts so occupied that she didn't notice Lila tugging on her arm and holding out a drawing. She gasped in dramatic amazement and took the piece of paper from the girl.

"What's this? It's beautiful!"

Lila giggled softly before pointing to each stick figure.

"That's me..and Mommy and Daddy...there's Cooper and Nyla-Rose! And there's Auntie Nat!" She finished triumphantly.

Natasha wrapped the girl in a big bear hug, making her giggle even more.

"I love it so much, Lila. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Auntie Nat!"

She sighed as Lila flounced off with a proud smile on her face and almost ran headfirst into her dad.

"Woah there, cowgirl," he chuckled and ruffled her hair before she continued to run along, disappearing into the front yard and leaving behind a fast growing distress that Clint could immediately read in his best friend.

There was no hesitation in accepting them into their home and Laura would have it no other way, believing that if they needed someplace to stay for awhile, it would be nowhere else but there. He knew they needed some time to regroup before disappearing and although he was officially retired, that didn't mean he couldn't host guests. Their identities didn't need to be revealed, of course.

He might have been pushing it, but he was Clint Barton. He was always pushing it.

Sitting across the table, he took her hands in his and let a moment of silence pass before asking what was wrong.

"I'm worried about Nyla," Natasha admitted, "she hasn't been eating and she hardly sleeps. She barely even steps foot out of the room. Not even when Cooper and Li want to spend time with her. Ever since she came back from the Raft...I don't know."

The redhead shrugged, not wanting to seem overly dramatic.

"Maybe I'm just being paranoid."

Clint slowly nodded.

Paranoid.

How could he possibly tell her? It's not that he didn't want to. Tony's comment towards Nyla-Rose had him seeing red. He couldn't imagine how it would make Natasha feel, but that wasn't his call. Nyla-Rose had been distant from everyone the day after Steve had rescued them and it bothered Clint that he knew what was eating her up on the inside when her own mother didn't. Sam didn't accept the responsibility of telling Nat on account of fearing for his life. Clint didn't expect him to, either.

So he took a deep breath and—

"TonyhurtNylabysayingsheisntyoursandthatswhysheslikethat."

"What?" Natasha asked, confused.

"I'm sorry, Nat. I just...Tony said something to Nyla and it really hurt her feelings," Clint said, clutching her hands more tightly.

Not to comfort.

Well, maybe.

More to restrain as a flush of color rose in the young mother's cheeks, a contrast to the calm appearance she held.

"What did he say?"

"Nat, I—"

"Clint," Her voice was razor sharp as the man gave a heavy sigh.

"He told her—"

"No. I want his exact words."

"...You're not your mom, Nyla-Rose. If you can even call her that.""

—————

Tony was having a good day, by his definition.

The sun was shining. He had lunch with Pepper after working on the new updates for his nanotechnology suit. The shipment of luxury cars that arrived at the Compound were in great condition, inspected by none other than the AI, FRIDAY herself. He watched the light on his desk phone blink infinitely, meaning he was pissing off Ross which was a victory in his book. Tony was having a good day. Until, the dark and threatening clouds of a redheaded storm rolled into his office.

He knew then that it had to be a matter of time before his luck ran out, but before he could dish out a clever comment, an explosion of pain smashed across the left side of his face.

"Damn it, Romanoff!" He yelled, clutching his throbbing cheek and grasping the edge of his desk to sit himself upright.

"What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem?" She shouted.

Just as she went to strike him again, a hand pulled her back and out of reach of Tony, who sat in stunned silence. Sam stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her chest to keep her from attacking him again, but Tony could tell he wanted nothing more than to release Nat's wrath. Clint couldn't risk the trip and Sam understood that, but Steve flat out refused to go. He was worried that the only outcome of doing so would result in something worse than the Raft, but Sam, although only knowing him for a short while, knew he didn't want to face Tony. They boarded the Quinjet shortly after Clint had revealed the cause of Nyla's trouble, none of them daring to question the deadly silence of which Natasha wrapped herself in.

Blinded by rage.

Tony deserved it—he knew his words would come back and bite him in the ass, words he regretted saying after they slipped from his mouth as casually as any other insult he'd ever given. But, he'd hurt someone he deeply cared for and he wished he could have taken it back. Pride. It was a demanding attribute.

"How could you say that to her? Did you even stop to think for a second that she would already be affected by all of this?"

"Natasha—"

"Don't!" She snapped, surging forward only to be stopped by the brute strength of Sam's arms.

She could easily break them.

Easily.

But Tony was still her friend and by the gods if she hit him again, she wouldn't have stopped.

"It's my turn to talk, Stark. You had no right, no right to tell her that!"

"It's nothing she didn't already know. Damn Barton. Knew he wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut," Tony muttered.

Sam's face contorted horribly.

"Tony, you're only making things worse," he warned.

"How?" Tony pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, placing his hands flat on his desk.

"Both of you are wanted in almost every single country after Rogers broke you out. Being here is making things worse."

"Pietro didn't seem to think so," Sam smirked.

"That bastard..."

"Nyla-Rose might not be my biological daughter, but I won't have you speaking to her in that way ever again," Natasha said, her voice stiff and rising fast, "she wasn't supposed to be there! She wasn't supposed to be locked up like some common criminal!"

"Then why don't you go ahead and yell at Rogers? He's the one that dragged her into this mess!" He shouted.

"Because he's not the one that HURT HER!"

For once in his life, Tony Stark had nothing to say as he watched one of the deadliest people he knew begin to cry. Sam was uncertain about how to deal with Nat as it was his first time seeing her in such an emotional state, but he carefully retracted his arms just in case. A few minutes passed as the men desperately shared awkward eye contact as a form of communication.

"You say something."
"No, you."
"No, YOU."

And right as Sam was about to give in, the soft sobbing ceased and Nat wiped her eyes shamefully.

"I'm sorry, Tony," she said, her voice cracking, "I know I shouldn't blame you for any of this. It's not your fault."

Tony could only nod.

"But...hearing her ask about her past? Her parents? I couldn't cope with it."

The redhead moved to slump into a chair.

She felt emotionally drained and couldn't bear to look at the men for fear of being seen as weak, but remembering how Nyla-Rose looked when asking such questions could only make the mother choke with grief.

Tony didn't want to impose on something as sensitive as motherhood, but he couldn't help himself as he collapsed into his own chair.

"Nat. Maybe it's time to find her real parents."

At the look on her face, he hastily rose his hands to stop whatever torture she had in mind.

"I don't mean we should just give her away, but she's 18, Nat. 18. And I—I'm sorry for what I said, I really am, but you have to admit, she would've thought about it sooner or later."

"It's not just that," she protested, "she's still discovering herself and I know I'm an influence whether I want to be or not, but I don't want her to feel like she needs to live up to whatever legacy she thinks I have. I don't want her to be me. And you made her feel like without that need, she's nothing."

"She's not nothing," Tony said, massaging his forehead, "I said those things out of anger, Nat. Truth be told, that girl will be ten times better than you'll ever be."

"You know it."

"But, what about her parents? We have to do something about that."

"Tony," Nat sighed in frustration, "I can't contact her parents. Besides, if it weren't for your damn mouth, she wouldn't be wondering about them."

He leaned forward almost eagerly.

"Why not? I'll have FRIDAY search through her records, find them, bring them to the Compound—"

"We can't, Tony," Natasha said harshly, cutting him off.

"Why not?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to keep calm, before opening them and staring right at him, her eyes full of tears once again.

"Because her real parents are dead...and so are her adoptive parents."

"What?"