"Stay with me Clint, stay with me," she breathed, pleaded, her voice sounding dangerously close to breaking as she knelt over him, doing what she could to slow the bleeding from the wound to his chest.
But he didn't feel the pain, not anymore. Even something as small as her presence eased his suffering.
He drew in the sight of her; if this was the last thing he'd ever see, he wouldn't mind. Her eyes shone with something he didn't often see - fear, anguish, desperation he wanted nothing more but to wipe all that away, replace it with her typical demeanor, the smooth, self assured grace, the natural presence she carried with ease.
If there ever was an angel sent to watch over him, well, it was her. Even the sun painted a halo around her fiery hair as he weakly reached up to finger a stray lock. Doing what he could to hold his hand steady in her hair, he managed out, "Tasha, I-"
"Don't," she cut him off, eyes squeezing shut. "Don't you dare, Clint Barton."
Still, he pushed on. "I love you, Nat. I… I always dreamed, you know, of telling you that. That maybe someday, we'd leave SHIELD. Go-" He coughed, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth. "…Go off the maps. Find a nice little place, settle down, start a family…" Pulling in a ragged breath with the last of his strength, he let his hand fall from her hair. She caught it halfway down, grasping on as if it was the only thing keeping her alive.
"We'll have all that, I promise," a single tear slid from her eye, rolling down her cheek, followed by another. "As soon as you're out of the hospital, we'll run. To Canada. England. Kansas. I don't even care where." She let out a shaky breath as his free hand moved to cup her cheek, his thumb wiping away a stray tear, leaving a streak of blood in its place.
Suddenly, he felt the last of his strength give way, hand falling from her face, blackness creeping in the edges of his vision, the pain searing back to life.
"No, Clint, no, no no no no no," the last thing he felt before his consciousness left him was her body slumping against his, face buried in his neck, hands laced through his own, as if she could somehow will him the life that was fading away.
And when he woke up, lying in a SHIELD issues hospital bed, various tubes and machines surrounding him, she was right there, curled into his side, hand still entwined in his.