The last vivid memory Clint had was the night before it had all gone down. He looked up at Phil's face, sweat dripping off of his brow as he pounded Clint into the mattress, Clint's legs resting on Phil's shoulders, fisting the sheets as he came all over his tight abs, getting some on Phil's chest.
But now that was gone.
After Natasha had told Clint that Phil was gone, he had lost himself. Everything became hazy. Memories slipped in and out of his mind's eye, trying to relive each precious moment, trying to go back in time.
He would. Go back in time. He would do anything to get Phil back.
Clint hasn't been sleeping. Not for the three months that Phil has been gone. He locks himself away during the day, creeping into the darkest corner of his closet, trying to forget the man who had made him. At night, he slinks around the mansion, trying to find solace, sometimes making his way outside, letting the cool night calm relieve some of his tension and ground him.
It's on one of these night walks that Clint distinctly hears a voice he will never forget.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Agent Barton?" Clint looks in the direction of Phil's voice but only finds empty space, silence. He briskly walks away from the voice, dazed and hurt, all of his worst fears come flooding back.
"Just because I'm gone doesn't mean you can throw your life away. This isn't what I intended," the voice yells after him. Clint walks faster, just wanting to return to the mansion. His heart beats rapidly, breaking all over again.
Clint reaches the mansion tears welling in his eyes and just before he can slip into the entrance hall, back to his life of sulking and depressed rage, he hears the voice again.
"I still love you. Don't forget me but please move on."
And it was in that instant that the future started to look brighter.