Clark had asked her to leave. It had been harder than he expected, but in that moment, it was the only thing that made sense. The betrayal had cut deep, and no matter how much he tried to deny it, the reality of her deception was impossible to ignore. She had lied to him, used him, and he couldn't just let that slide.
For weeks, Clark tried to move forward. He focused on his work at the hardware store, trying to distract himself from the gnawing emptiness he felt inside. His abilities—his enhanced hearing, his speed, his strength—were still there, unchanged, but they only served to remind him how much he didn't belong in this world.
His heart was heavy, his mind restless, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he missed her. Despite everything, he still cared about Natasha.
Then, one night, after a long day, he returned to his apartment, expecting peace and solitude.
Instead, he found her waiting for him outside his door.
She looked up when he stepped into view, her face a mixture of apprehension and determination. For a moment, she didn't speak, just stood there as if she were gathering the courage to face him.
"Clark," she finally said, her voice quieter than usual. "I know you're angry. I deserve that."
Clark froze, the sight of her stirring something inside him. The anger was still there, sharp and raw, but now, there was also something else—a painful tug in his chest. He hadn't realized just how much he missed her presence, how much he'd come to rely on her in the short time they'd been together. But that was the problem, wasn't it? She had deceived him.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, the words coming out colder than he intended. "I told you to leave."
"I know," Natasha said, taking a small step forward, her gaze never leaving his. "And I should've listened. But I couldn't just leave things the way they were. Not after everything."
Clark crossed his arms over his chest, his mind racing. "So, what is it now? You're here to apologize?"
"No. I'm here to tell you the truth," she said, her voice softer, almost hesitant. "But first, you need to understand something. I never meant for this to happen. Not the way it did. Not the way I... feel about you."
Clark narrowed his eyes. "Feel? Are you serious? You *used* me, Natasha. You lied to me from the beginning. Everything was a game to you. Wasn't it?"
Her heart skipped a beat, a faint tremble in her breath that Clark didn't miss. He had learned to pay attention to things like that—when people's words didn't match their heartbeats. He could hear the rapid thump of Natasha's heart, and it told him everything. She was nervous, but there was something else beneath it. Something more complex.
He studied her, his voice low and filled with the weight of his words. "Tell me, Natasha, are you lying to me now?"
She took a deep breath, clearly struggling to hold herself together. But as she spoke, Clark could hear the subtle shift in her heartbeat. He could tell she was being honest, but it wasn't the full truth. Not yet.
"I never meant for it to go this far," she said, her voice quiet, but steady. "I came here to do a job. To get close to you. To... gather intel, information about you and your past. I know your world—what happened to it. I read your file, Clark. I know what you've lost. I know the pain that you carry with you every day."
At that, Clark's breath hitched. He hadn't expected her to know that much about him, about his world. She was right. He had lost everything—the planet he had sworn to protect, his family, his friends. He had tried to rebuild here, but it always felt like something was missing. And now, Natasha, the one person he had trusted, had seen the depths of his pain and used it against him.
"You read my file?" Clark's voice dropped to a near whisper, hurt and confusion lacing every syllable. "You knew about my world? Everything that happened... and you still—"
Her gaze softened, and she stepped closer, her voice quiet but urgent. "Yes. I knew. And believe me, I didn't want to go down this path. But when I met you, when I saw you... I couldn't just keep lying to you. I couldn't keep pretending I didn't care."
Clark's eyes flicked to hers. The vulnerability in her words didn't align with the heart he could hear beating erratically in her chest. There was truth in what she said, but he wasn't sure if he could trust it. He wasn't sure if he could trust her.
"Then why all the lies?" he asked. "Why put me through all this?"
"I never meant to hurt you," she said, her voice low, almost pleading. "I didn't expect to develop feelings for you. I didn't expect to feel anything at all. But I do. I can't deny it. And that's why I'm here now—because I owe you the truth."
Clark's heart tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. Her words hit him harder than he wanted to admit, but that was the problem—*feelings*. He was afraid of them, afraid to let someone get close. It was easier to keep everything locked away, to focus on the world he was trying to rebuild, to stay detached from anyone who might remind him of the life he had lost.
"I don't know if I can believe you," Clark said, his voice strained with the effort to hold back the surge of anger. He could feel his heat vision flickering at the edges of his eyes, the familiar burn of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. "You lied to me. And you used me."
Natasha looked down, her own heartbeat pounding in her chest. But she didn't back down. Instead, she stepped closer, her eyes searching his face, silently pleading with him to understand.
"I can't undo what's been done, Clark," she said softly, the words raw with emotion. "But I can promise you this: I never meant to hurt you. Not the way I have. You were never just part of the mission to me. You became... something more. I care about you."
Clark stood frozen, staring at her, torn between the flood of emotions and the part of him that refused to trust her, refused to let himself be hurt again. His chest ached, and for a brief moment, it was all too much. He wanted to scream, to yell, to push her away, but something inside him wouldn't let him.
Instead, he took a step back and whispered, "Who are you, Natasha? Really? Who are you?"
She didn't speak right away, her eyes softening with regret. It was then that he realized something—Natasha was just as human as he was. She had her own battles, her own past she was running from. And maybe, just maybe, they weren't so different after all.