A/N I don't really know what happened here. It just sorta... did. Don't judge too hard. If you don't like what I had to say, don't bash it. There's some lines you shouldn't cross. Please don't insult my beliefs. Constructive criticism is welcome though. R&R

Disclaimer: The poemGod Lay Dead In Heaven belongs to Stephen Maria Crane


Clint, surprisingly, was a religious man.

He went to church, prayed over his meals, read the bible. He had God and believed Jesus was his savior. He believed someone could help redeem him from his past. Only the people he let in knew. He wasn't a very open man.

Natasha, not so surprisingly, is not a religious woman.

She never went to church, never thanked any higher power, never cracked open a bible. She doesn't believe there is anything else. She doesn't believe it's possible for anyone save her. Everyone knows this. But, she isn't a very open woman regardless.

"I just don't get it," Natasha would say.

"You have to put your faith somewhere," Clint would answer.

"I put mine in a bullet."

"Yeah, but even a gun can misfire."

And they left it at that.


Clint had a favorite poem. No one knew he was the reading type. He was later in life.

God lay dead in heaven;

Angels sang the hymn of the end;

Purple winds went moaning,

Their wings drip-dripping

With blood

That fell upon the earth.

It, groaning thing,

Turned black and sank.

Then from the far caverns

Of dead sins

Came monsters, livid with desire.

They fought,

Wrangled over the world,

A morsel.

But of all sadness this was sad —

A woman's arms tried to shield

The head of a sleeping man

From the jaws of the final beast.

"Why is God dead? I didn't think he could die," Natasha would say.

"He isn't dead. It's a metaphor." Clint would answer.

"For."

"People on Earth stopped believing in him. It's the end of the world. Or that's my way of seeing it."

It meant something to Clint.

Natasha didn't get it.


Clint left late one night. It was 'Top Secret'. Not even his wife could know. So he left her.

Natasha woke the next morning. His side of the bed was cold.


Clint came back three months later. He always comes back. But, this time, it was in a wooden box.

Natasha said goodbye three days after that.


Natasha's arms couldn't shield him. The sleeping man. The innocent. The man who still had faith. Clint. Her world ended.

She lay down on his cold side of the bed with the flag they gave her as a last token and his bible.

Then Natasha slept.