Guilt is not something Natasha feels very often. Responsibility for her actions, yes. A knowledge that she owes the damn universe and will never make up for her crimes that, by any standard, were crimes, yes. But not guilt.

Now, it's written all over her.

She looks at Clint, face starting to crumple even as she crawls back to where he is, taking his hand as she curls into him.

He can't fix it. But, well.

Hugs go a long way.