Work Text:
Originally posted on Tumblr
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Clint’s heart pounded in his chest as a S.H.I.E.L.D. car, filled with Agents in fire-proof suits, sped towards the site of a motorbike collision. Just minutes before, Coulson had raced into his apartment, telling him that a fuel-dosed motor bike had collided with a red one, belonging to an Agent, causing a huge explosion. Barley minutes before that, Natasha had phoned him saying she needed to talk to him, and was racing home as quick as she could on her new bike, a bike Clint had given her himself. She’d also mentioned one more thing, which was someone was trying to kill her. That was what got his heart racing the moment Phil arrived with the news.
“Hurry up!” He yelled at the driver as they got closer to the site. Natasha, his Tasha, could be dying or dead. He had promised he would always be with her, and he wasn’t with her now.
The car skidded to a stop in front of blazing fires, sending fear racing through him. He jumped out of the car, along with the other agents and Coulson, and raced up to the flames. There was no way he could go through them without getting burnt.
“Find Natasha!” He yelled out desperately at his co-workers, praying she was still alive.
Through the flames he could see the destroyed remains of her bike, along with those of the other one. Lying between them was a charred body, unrecognizable from his distance. When he saw it he fell to his knees, shaking in worry. No. She couldn’t be gone.
The Agents ran to the body, one of them checking for any signs of life. When he shook his head, Clint cried out in anguish, not able to believe it. She was gone, his precious Natasha. The one who held his heart. He felt hands rubbing his shoulder and looked up through his tears, seeing Coulson looking down at him with sorrow.
The Agent carried the body to Clint and gently rested it down near him, underneath it a tarp. He crawled over to it as a sob racked through him. What remained of it was the same proportions as Natasha, confirming once and all that it was her. He should have been there for her, he should have been by her side as soon as he learned someone was trying to kill her. She shouldn’t be dead.
“I’m sorry, Tasha,” he whispered as tears rushed down his face. “I love you, and I am so, so sorry I wasn’t there.”
He stood up and Coulson’s hand returned on his shoulder, but he shrugged him off. “I need time alone,” he whispered.
He walked away from Phil, away from the fires and away from her burnt body. He went down a little slope, out of sight from the other Agents, and collapsed onto his knees in tears. In front of him was one of Natasha’s guns, which had escaped the explosion. He picked it up, steeling himself.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured and raised it to his head. “I need to be with you.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ready to pull the trigger and join her.
“Clint! Wait!” A female called out desperately. Her voice was hoarse and pained, but it contained all the worry in the world.
His eyes shot open at the familiar voice and looked around for the source, dropping it when he saw her. Natasha. He stumbled over to her body, which was burnt in places and bruised but otherwise alright. Clint gently put a hand on her cheek, his eyes wide.
“You’re alive,” he whispered. “You’re not d-dead.”
“No,” she whispered and placed her hand on top of his. “I rolled off the bike as soon as the assassin crashed into me. My only thoughts were of you.”
Clint smiled and kissed her cheek gently. “Coulson!” He yelled out. “She’s down here!”
He saw the head of Phil appear and call out orders to the Agents, his eyes wide in surprise. He looked back to Natasha, smiling gently.
“I heard what you said,” she whispered in his ear. “And I need you too.”