My Weakness

Clint had seen Natasha get shot, stabbed, break her limbs falling out of buildings, and suffer every conceivable injury. He had stitched her up himself in the worst possible settings with nothing but needle and thread and no antiseptic or pain relief. He had always known her to bite down on something and plow through whatever pain she was in: she had the highest pain tolerance of anyone he had ever known. So after seven hours of labor when Natasha started to cry out in pain and grasped at his hand, Clint felt real terror.

Tony had spent a small fortune bringing in the best OB/GYNs, midwives and a doula for Natasha, and Clint was doing his best to terrorize them. He demanded to know what was going on. When he didn't understand what they said, he demanded that they explain it again in English. When he still didn't get it, he demanded answers all over again. Anxious fathers were old hat to the medical team, so each of them handled the master assassin as if he were any other expectant father. Clint, who was accustomed to being treated with fear and deference, was at an absolute loss. After a while, his concern for Natasha and the baby overrode his demand for answers and he settled on, "is she going to be okay? Is the baby going to be okay? Please tell me she's going to be okay."

He had read all the books, but they were doing him no good now. The nurses kept coming in, feeling up his wife (he couldn't believe she was letting that happen), and proclaiming that everything was going well, with words like "dilated" and "effaced." Centimeters and percentages. That information meant exactly dick to him. Natasha was in pain, and that shit needed to stop. NOW. He had known it was going to happen, he had known it was going to be bad, but he hadn’t been at all prepared for this. Every time she moaned it felt like he was being cut in two. Every time she cried out he apologized and told her how much he loved her.

Natasha had long ago tossed off the hospital gown, yelling, "get this goddamn thing fucking off of me, it's hot as hell in here!”, leaving her in a sports bra and nothing else. Clint was a little on the cold side in long sleeves, but hey. This is her show.

He tried comforting her, to mixed degrees of success. It seemed that sometimes when he rubbed her back and told her how proud he was of her she wanted him, loved him and needed him, and other times his cock was in mortal peril and he could go choke on shit. He was steady through it all, telling her that he loved her and he she could do it. He touched her whenever he could. He brought her ice chips and told her he loved her. Then he held her hands and tried not to panic when the contractions came and she cried out in agony.

After ten hours of labor, the nurse came in, checked her and smiled softly. ”I’m going to call the doctor now.”

“Is it time to push?”

“The doctor can tell you everything, Mr. Barton.”
Natasha couldn't answer, she was breathing too heavily. Clint just looked at the nurse leaving, open mouthed, then back at Natasha. "The baby's coming, Nat. It's time!"

"NO SHIT.”

Clint retreated quickly with more encouragement and soothing declarations of love. He wiped back the dark tendrils of hair stuck to her forehead, now dark brown instead of their usual red, and kissed the hand that was squeezing the ever loving shit out of his. "I love you. Let's do this." Natasha nodded, still panting.

The doctor came in, tugging on his paper scrub coat and latex gloves followed by an unfamiliar doctor and several nurses who set about the room, directing nurses and working busily. Dr Heist indicated the other doctor and said, “Natasha, Clint, this is Dr. Woodson. He’s an anesthesiologist and is going to be doing a spinal block for you today.”

Natasha started shaking her head violently. Clint said, “No. She wants a drug-free birth.”

Dr. Heist replied, “I’m sorry, guys, but she doesn’t really have a choice in the matter anymore. The baby’s heart rate is dropping every time Natasha contracts, and we suspect she has the cord around her neck.” A nurse walked over to Clint, handing him a pair of green scrubs and indicating an area behind the screen to go get changed. He looked at her in horror. “Basically, the baby is in distress and we have to get her out immediately.”

~*~

The only person in the waiting room who was remaining calm was Bruce, nobody else was even bothering to put up a pretense. Tony was pacing a circle around the room, checking his phone obsessively and stopping everyone who looked "medical" that came by, asking for information. Thor walked to the door of the ward hopefully every three minutes or so, as if it would look different one time.  Steve sat in the corner with his forehead in his hands, silent. They all suspected he was praying. Jane and Pepper had given up and left after the men made them too twitchy, leaving word that they were to be called as soon as the guys got news.

It had been an hour and a half since the last text from Clint, when he had said things were progressing normally and it shouldn't be too much longer.

Tony sat down heavily on Steve's couch, and Steve looked up. Bruce glanced up from his puzzle book and Thor rubbed his hands together briskly. Tony ran both hands through his hair and left his hands on his neck, blowing out his cheeks. He looked around at the others. "What do we do?"

Steve looked at him questioningly. "What do you mean, 'what do we do'?"

Tony sat upright and put his hands in front of him, gesticulating as he talked, clearly agitated. "What I MEAN is that one third of our team is back there and we have no fucking clue what's going on! Anything could be happening back there! Why is this taking so long? She could be bleeding out for all we know, or dead! We don't know! She could be-"

Bruce caught the stricken look on Steve's face and interrupted in his quiet, calming but firm way, "Tony. Babies come on their own time, there's no way to make this happen faster. You have brought in the best doctors from around the country to take care of this team and her. She's in the best possible hands. RELAX."

Tony scrubbed his face with his hands and tried to imagine what Clint must be feeling. Steve bowed his head back down and this time there was no suspicion, his lips were moving in silent prayer. Bruce lifted his puzzle book back up and pretended to go back to working on it but instead watched Tony covertly over his glasses.

Thor spoke, "On Asgard, the birth of an offspring warrants a great celebration. Asgardian babies are large and some women - the weak, sickly women - don't survive, nor do their offspring. So the birth of a healthy baby is cause for great celebration indeed."

Steve's head snapped up and Tony just looked at him, agog. Steve said, "That's not at all comforting."

Thor smiled, leaned forward and wagged his finger. "Ah, but it should be. For, you see, the strongest women, the warriors, they rarely encounter troubles on the path to birth, and their issue is almost never sickly or weak." He smiled at Steve and Tony then continued, "Never in all of my centuries of battling have I ever seen a warrior woman as strong, as brave, or as hearty as our Widow. I believe she will be with us again soonest." He sat back, smiling. "Although I do wish to hear glad tidings soon."

~*~

Natasha demanded to be put into a wheelchair and wheeled to the room that was serving as a nursery as soon as she had enough feeling in her legs to sit up. Clint and the nurse carefully helped her into the chair and gently wheeled her into the room where her daughter lay in an isolette. A gold foil heart was stuck to her chest, a red light was taped to her toe, and she lay there, inside a plastic box, alone.

The pediatrician explained that babies who were born via c-section occasionally had fluid in their lungs, also called "wet lung," but it was rarely anything to really worry about and she should be fine in a day or two. They just had to slow her breathing down a bit.

"Can I hold her?"

"Not yet, but you can in an hour or so. You can touch her, though. Here," The nurse opened the hole on the side of the isolette and Natasha tentatively slipped her hand in. Her baby lie there, sleeping, and she was afraid to wake it, but she felt compelled to touch her, to see if she was real.

Natasha brushed her finger against the tiny hand, and the baby grasped her finger tightly. Natasha's eyes swam with tears she didn't even try to fight. She stuck her other hand into the other hole and reached in to stroke her daughter's head.

She had a head full of blonde hair. Blonde, like her Daddy. Natasha sniffed and turned around to look at Clint, who was beaming. "She looks like you, Clint."

"She's looking at you, sweetheart."

Natasha looked back, and found that the baby had her eyes open and was gazing in her direction. Her eyes were piercing blue, the same blue that Clint's eyes were when he looked at her, the same blue they were when he was full of joy and peace. Tears fell unchecked.

"I want to change her name."

"Why?"

"Because I have a better one. I don’t want to name her Claire Elizabeth anymore.”

"It took us so long to agree on Claire. Are you sure you want to change it?"

"I'm totally sure."

"Ok. What name are you thinking of?"

"You wanted to give her a Russian name, right?"

"Yes."

"And I wanted an American name."

"Correct."

"Well, I want her name to mean something."

"I'm not following, sweetheart."

"Irina is a Russian name that means 'peace'. I want to name her Erinna, with an "e," and maybe call her Erin."

"Why?"

"Because after all these months of turmoil, I feel peaceful about her and our decision."

"Erinna Claire Barton?"

"Yes."

"I love it."

~*~

It had been three hours since they got a text saying there had been an emergency c-section, two hours since Thor told an irrelevant story, fifteen minutes since Tony had harassed a staff member for information and four since he texted Clint again demanding to know just what the hell was going on. Steve was standing at the window, gazing at nothing, Bruce asleep with his chin on his chest and his puzzle book fallen into his lap, Thor sitting on the couch looking both amused and annoyed while Tony was rapid fire flipping channels.

"The largest communication systems in the world at my fingertips and I can't find anything to fucking watch." He cursed and tossed the remote to Thor before running his hand through his hair again. "Goddammit. I'm going crazy." He grabbed for his phone. "How much -"

The mechanical door opened. Tony sprang to his feet and Steve turned around. Thor stood slowly, knocking Bruce on the knee to wake him up as he rose.

Clint walked through the door, beaming, wearing green scrubs. “You guys wanna see my daughter?”

~*~

Clint brought them back to a tiny nursery in the clinic and pulled a chair beside a clear plastic box where the baby was lying under a light. The nurse opened the box, swaddled the baby, ordered Clint to sit, and handed the tiny bundle to him. Clint looked around at the guys, beaming with pride. "Boys, I want you to meet my daughter, Erinna Claire Barton. Erinna, these are your uncles Bruce, Tony, Thor, and Steve."

The four superheroes stood shoulder to shoulder to gaze down at the tiny baby girl. Tony spotted a tear running from the corner of Clint's eye but chose to say nothing. Looking around, he realized that only Thor's eyes weren't watery.

“Erinna?” asked Bruce.

Clint smiled at him and explained, “Its Russian for ‘peace.’ We felt like it was the most appropriate name we could give her.” He shot Bruce a meaningful look. “Natasha picked it out herself.” Bruce smiled a little and nodded.

“How’s Natasha?" Steve asked quietly.

Clint gave him the quickest side-glance. “She’s good. She's tired and sore, but I've never seen anything like her in there. She's stronger than all of us, I swear she is.”

Bruce and Thor chuckled. Thor said, "I doubt it not.”

“She’s upset that they had to take the baby by c-section, but we’re both glad they did. Erinna had the cord around her neck twice. Baby girl was all tangled up, huh?” He kissed her forehead.

“Why’ve they got her in an isolette?” Bruce asked.

“Is that what this thing is called? Oh, well, because she was a c-section, not all of the fluid in her lungs got squeezed out. It happens sometimes, the doctor called it “wet lung.” She’s having a little bit of a hard time breathing, but the doctor’s aren’t really worried. She’s just breathing kind of fast and has to stay in here most of the time for now.”

Clint bent down and kissed his daughter's blonde head again. ”I just can't believe it, guys. Look at her. Isn't she beautiful?"

Tony reached up with one finger and stroked her cheek, then looked at Clint. "Well, personally I think she looks a bit like a potato. But she's the prettiest damn potato I ever saw."

Steve looked at Tony wide-eyed as if questioning his sanity - you just don't say something like that to a new father - but Clint and Thor burst out laughing followed by the others. They all hushed almost instantly, however, when Erinna began to fuss.

"Uh-oh," said Steve.

"Shit, I'm sorry man," said Tony.

"No, it's fine. I need to get back anyway or Nat will get out of bed just to kill me. She was asleep for a little while, I wanted to let her rest."

Bruce asked, "When can we see her?"

"Nat?"

"Yeah."

"Tomorrow. Let her sleep the rest of the night...it's been a long day."

The guys murmured assent and told Clint to give Natasha their best, but as they were turning to leave Thor said, "Wait! Hawkeye, if you please."

Clint stopped before putting the baby in the isolette, the smile still plastered on his face. ”Yeah, Thor?"

"With your permission, I would like to give little Erinna my Asgardian blessing. It will not harm nor disturb her, and t'will only take a moment."

Clint looked taken aback and hesitant for just a moment, then said, "Natasha and I would be honored for you to bless Erinna."

Thor laid his huge hand gently on the baby's tiny head and said some words none of them recognized. Then he made a design on her forehead and laid his fingers there for a moment. Clint felt the slightest warm breeze, then calmness.

"There. I have asked for the protection and blessings of the Asgardian gods to be with her for all of her days."

Clint just nodded, unsure of what to say, and Thor clapped him gently on the shoulder. Steve came over to offer parting congratulations, followed by Bruce, but before Tony could get to Clint Erinna let out a whimper, a little more urgent whimper, and then a wail.

Bruce put his arms out, encompassing Steve, Tony and Thor. “We’ll get out of your hair, Clint. Tell Nat we’ll come by tomorrow to see her and the baby and give her our love.”

“Will do. Thanks.” Clint smiled as they disappeared back through the automated door.

The four men were all smiling small, bemused smiles as they walked back into the lobby, each engrossed in their own thoughts. Steve and Bruce looked almost wistful. Tony was fairly jaunty, nearly bouncing with every step. Finally, he broke the silence.

"This is how life is gonna be around the Tower now, isn't it?" asked Tony. "That little girl is going to pout and all four of us are going to trip all over ourselves to make it better for her. She's going to be the princess of our universes."

"Yep."

"Pretty much."

"I think so, metal man."

Tony grinned. “The Princess of Avengers Tower. I love it.”

~*~

Natasha had lost count of the times she had woken up in a hospital bed with Clint sleeping in a chair beside her, but she could honestly say that she’d never woken up because a baby was crying lying on his chest. Her daughter. Erinna. Peace. And what a peaceful scene that was.

After months and months of agony, wondering if she would be able to love this baby, the truth had been so quick and so evident. The doctor had handed Erinna to Clint, who snuggled her for half a second and leaned down to let her look.

“Nat, look. It’s our daughter.”

Natasha had looked. The baby had been pink and grey, almost waxy looking. Her face was smooshed up, nothing like the cherubic pictures in the magazines and books she’d seen. She was tiny, so tiny.

She had leaned over and kissed the baby’s nose, the only part of her that she could reach with her lips. “Mommy is going to do her best for you, okay?” Then the pediatrician took her away, and she and Clint just counted down the time until they could see her again. Natasha had spent all of that time wondering just why she had worried she couldn’t love her daughter, and chastising herself for wasting her pregnancy.

“Hey, sweetheart, did we wake you?” His head bent down almost involuntarily and kissed the baby’s downy head. “I’m sorry. I wanted to let you sleep a little longer, but the little princess is getting hungry, so I expect it’s mommy time.” He was laid back in the recliner with the baby curled into a ball on his chest on his undershirt, using his shirt as a blanket and her receiving blanket as extra shelter.

“That’s an odd looking papoose you’ve got going on there, Clint.”

He looked a little embarrassed. “Well, babies can’t see, they know everything by smell and hearing, and so I just wanted her to know my scent, you know? She already knows your voice and scent.”

“She does?”

“She sure does. Here. Take her and feed her…see for yourself.”

“I don’t know what to do, Clint.”

"I know.” He looked at her, this man who knew her better than anyone in the world ever had and loved her more deeply than she ever hoped anyone ever could. She looked back at him, saw the love in his eyes as he held their daughter, felt the fear and uncertainty bubble inside her and the tears gathered.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart…” He swaddled the baby and lay her down in her bassinet, gently put the pacifier in her tiny mouth and sat next to Natasha, pulling her into his arms ever so gently. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, not really.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing either, you know. And I’m scared as hell.”

“But you look so…so natural.”

“You were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen when they handed her to you the first time.”

“Oh shut up.”

“I mean it, Nat. If I lost all my memories tomorrow, I would beg and plead to keep that one. How you looked holding our daughter. You glowed. You looked victorious. I was so proud of you, and I loved you more in that second than I ever have before. And you looked like the most natural thing in the world.”

Erinna spit out the paci and started to fuss again. Clint kissed Natasha softly and went to pick up the baby, bringing her back over. “Here. Take her. Try it.”

She looked at him hesitantly, then opened her arms to accept her daughter. Erinna fussed for only a moment, then began to root around for her mother’s breast. Natasha helped her a bit, and when Erinna latched on, she looked up at Clint with wide, wet eyes.

He smiled. “See? The most natural thing in the world.”

Natasha didn’t answer for a moment, she just bent her head and kissed her daughter, humming a tune Clint didn’t recognize. Clint watched for a moment, drinking in the sight and feeling like he would burst.

“She looks like you, Clint. Blonde hair and eyes. Sweet little chin.”

“I know. I hope she’ll grow out of it.”

She looked up and smiled at him. “You’re gorgeous and you know it. And she’s stunning. She’ll be a heartbreaker.”

He sighed. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

Natasha went back to rocking the baby, humming, stroking her cheek. Clint watched, smiling softly, thinking back over their nine years together and everything that had led up to this moment. Thinking about the life he had had, and what he had now. Thinking about what kind of man he had been, and what she had made him into.

“Nat?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m so damned glad I disobeyed orders in Johannesburg.”