HELLO EVERYONE :3 long time, no see eh? My deepest apologies for that… I promise you, I'm updating Sherlock Holmes: The Dark Before Dawn as we speak. Honestly, I am. But I've been kind of been obsessed with RPing and one-shotting and video making so that happened. This particular one-shot was based upon a little dare I made RPing with the one and only Clint Barton, aka hawkeye13 on here. I think that's his username… Don't quote me on that… ANYWAY. And then I was listening to our mutual favorite band Imagine Dragons and got this bloody brilliant idea. So this one's for you Tweety! :D It's a Clintasha fic, as seen in the description, and if you're a fan of happy endings… uh… look away. Sorry. I love writing depressing endings for some reason, my apologies. OH. Check out my YouTube video that I made! :3 It's under the name Loki Laufeyson and it's called Love Story - Lokyana. It's basically a fan made video of the love story of Loki and Illyana, the crazy mind-reading beautiful mutant (Amanda Seyfried). So that happened :3 BUT I'M HERE BITCHES AND READ AND WEEP AND REVIEW AND ENJOY. I LOVE YOU ALL.
Bleeding Out
I'm bleeding out… So if the last thing that I do is to bring you down, I'll bleed out for you.
Clint Barton had many problems, but he never thought this would be one of them. He never thought he could actually feel this way towards someone… It couldn't be true, this just wasn't right. But no matter how many times he slowly breathed in and out, contemplating life and this horrible decision to make, the feeling kept returning to him like a never ending case of the flu. Annoying, irritating, maddening to the point of complete and utter destruction; and yet, it felt warm and fuzzy inside, like the archer was being constantly squeezed by a giant teddy bear. But the thing was… Clint hated it.
He needed absolute ruling over his life all the time, no matter what the circumstance was, so having this feeling of lustiness and feeling lost was new and unfamiliar. Another thing the SHIELD agent hated… Being lost and not understanding. When he had been a new recruit, he had experienced what probably the worst was feeling ever. Now, he had to laugh. Here he was, stuck in a situation that he would have never thought possible before. He had really done it this time; there was absolutely no going back. Not this time.
So I bare my skin, and I count my sins, and I close my eyes and I take it in. I'm bleeding out. I'm bleeding out for you. For you.
Clint couldn't even remember how he had gotten to the woods exactly, his memories currently being tossed around in his head like a child's bouncy ball. Everything seemed to be falling apart right when things were actually starting to get good. He had to laugh, and then he winced. Laughing hurt. He touched a tentative hand to his head, suddenly realizing his position on the rough grass. His hand withdrew as pain shot through his skull, and he stared at the red blood dripping through his fingertips. He grimaced at the sight and sighed.
Of course, he insisted on going at this alone.
He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the damage that had been done to him any longer. But then he quickly opened them again, the curiosity becoming too much for him to handle. He had to know, he had to see. The archer craned his head to one side, his neck straining against the limitations preventing him somehow, and gave another involuntary flinch. Even the slightest movement hurt. This wasn't good.
He shifted his left arm, trying to get a better view, and only succeeded in catching another sight of more blood pouring out from a side wound where a piece of a tree was impaled within him. He shut his eyes tightly, thinking of a single person in his mind and how utterly - No. He couldn't think like that. He did this all for her. He did it all for Natasha, anyway.
When the day has come that I've lost my way around, and the seasons stop and hide beneath the ground. When the sky turns gray and everything is screaming, I will reach inside just to find my heart is beating.
Another sigh, another memory slowly flitting into the consciousness, and another reason to forget about everything. It simply wasn't worth it.
Clint was lost, this time. He had already admitted that much, but it still hurt like hell to even see it within him. The sky was slowly turning dark, signaling the end of the archer's time and yet, even when he tried to get rid of her, all he could think about the black widow that spun a web around his heart. Just the way she looked at him could get his heart beating faster, the way she joked around with him and smirked in his direction made him want to fall to his knees and profess, and the way that their chemistry just bonded together perfectly was like no other. Nothing could compare to what the two SHIELD agents had… It was that simple. And still, he despised it like no other. He couldn't control it and that was the kicker. He needed his own power to regulate the emotions that were flaring up inside of him, but it was lost. Gone with the wind.
Oh Natasha, if only you knew…
Clint's thoughts continued to flit about, not being able to grasp upon one for more than a second before it drifted away into the breeze. He still was unsure just how he got here in this position in time; collapsed and bleeding with impalements and severe damage clearly showing all throughout his body, laying in the middle of a random forest that he didn't recognize. Time just seemed to stop, although he couldn't let it. His breathing grew shallower and shallower until it threatened to stop instantly, but the archer pressed on, thinking of the one thing that kept him living… for now.
You tell me to hold on, oh you tell me to hold on, but innocence is gone and what was right is wrong.
He could clearly hear her voice in his head, pleading with him - begging almost - for him to stay strong and make it through this. He had to, he had to for her. He was a SHIELD agent after all; what was a little accident going to do to him? An accident. That was a random though and yet some thoughts stuck back to the forefront of Clint's brain. Was it an accident? Truly? What even was this?
He twisted his neck around, trying to make sense of things, and that's when he saw it. The flames erupting around him, completely taking over the remainder of the forest. It was a wonder that the archer hadn't perished yet, but they didn't seem to be getting closer to him luckily. That wasn't the worst part, however… In the middle of the flames was a single crashed SHIELD airplane. Clint groaned, letting his head flop back onto the grass. He… crashed?
Something didn't add up. The agent never crashed, hell he never even lost control. That was all Natasha's doing… But the thought of her yet again brought about another pang in his heart. Maybe she would know, try and make sense of some things. He pulled out his communicator, hoping to hear her voice frantic in his ear, but there was nothing. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out; he couldn't do it. Something inside of him was telling him not to, that he had been doing this for her anyway… But what? Something was still missing in this puzzle piece.
Everything seemed upside down and turned around, and Clint didn't have a clue anymore.
'Cause I'm bleeding out. So if the last thing that I do is bring you down, I'll bleed out for you. So I bare my skin and I count my sins and I close my eyes and I take it in, and I'm bleeding out. I'm bleeding out for you, for you.
There hadn't been any warning, naturally, for this. There never was. Clint was still unsure of why he was here and the reasoning behind it all, but at least some of the facts were there. His brain wasn't completely trashed yet. He was flying, alone, and he crashed in these woods, wherever here was. He was hit with the flying debris and obviously damaged severely. He hoped it wasn't to the point of immediate death and doom, but he couldn't keep his hopes up. This obviously wasn't good at all.
He did another reluctant check about himself and instantly grimaced at the sight. This wasn't pretty whatsoever. His head was still bleeding, there was a giant branch impaled through his side like a dagger, his right leg was bent at an awkward angle, he couldn't feel his lower back, and every time he moved his neck, it felt like it was going to snap right off. This all under the mounds of plane debris, trees and ashes that were piled on top of him like a child in Christmas wrapping paper.
Yes, things weren't looking too good for the archer.
When the hour is high and hopelessness sinking in, the wolves all cry to fill the night with hollering. When your eyes are red and emptiness is all you know, with the darkness fed, I will be your scarecrow.
Slowly, Clint managed to use his arm that wasn't currently skewered in with a tree branch to shift some debris off of his torso, allowing more room for him to breathe. He sighed, immediately wincing. No things weren't looking good at all.
He collapsed back on the ground, heaving yet another - slightly smaller and less painful - sigh. What was the point? What was the use? He was obviously going to die here, so why even bother trying to help yourself anymore? He closed his eyes, admitting defeat, and she flitted in front of his thoughts again.
He groaned, swatting his free arm in front of his face, "Go away Nat."
Although stubborn as he was, he didn't want her to go away. She was the one thing that he wanted to be thinking about when sleep overtook him for good. She was the reason why he came here after all, even though that was still an open question. She was the reason why he had changed. He had changed because he wanted to protect her and - he loved her.
There. It was out in the open forest now.
Clint had fallen head over heels for his co-partner, best friend, master assassin and the one thing in life that kept him going. She had always been there for him, and he wanted to do the same. Until the end, he had promised. Looking back now, he had to laugh at the irony of that statement. This was the end. He had admitted defeat.
But you tell me to hold on, oh you tell me to hold on, but innocence is gone and what was right is wrong.
But her face didn't want to leave him. Clint was constantly plagued by her every action and movement, not necessarily helping in the situation right here, but that was beside the point. He wanted her beside him now, he needed her. He wanted death to accept him so he could die knowing that he loved Natasha and that she had to as well. There was simply no other explanation. He had done everything for her, and there was no going back.
And yet, the Natasha in Clint's head didn't let up. The disapproving looks and the comments of him being lazy and ungrateful were bad enough until the conscience Nat started to break down. Seeing Natasha in any state of mind other than her normal cold figure was bad enough, but seeing her image completely cry and beg for Clint to stay was something the archer simply could not handle. This was turning to be unacceptable.
Finally, he popped open his eyes. Resisting the pain, he struggled to sit up a bit, taking one step at a time. He couldn't let Natasha resort to that, even if she was just a figment of his imagination for now. But that alone had given him strength.
'Cause I'm bleeding out. So if the last thing that I do is bring you down, I'll bleed out for you. So I bare my skin and I count my sins and I close my eyes and I take it in, and I'm bleeding out. I'm bleeding out for you, for you.
And then suddenly, like the blood seeping out of his wounds, the memories rushed back into his head. The archer gasped as the revelation hit him like a ton of bricks. It seemed that letting the blood drown from his head had actually allowed his memories to return, even if just for a moment. There had been a fight… Something about protection and all of that dumb shit that he and Natasha always fought about. They both could take care of themselves, but yet they both seemed so inclined to take care of each other. This mission that they both received was different. It had been from…
Another puzzle piece clicked into place, sending a jolt through Clint's body. It had been from him. That was the reason why. Suddenly, with that single fact, everything seemed to fall right into place.
He shook his head, not believing what he was remembering. He recalled Fury coming in and sitting him and Natasha both down at those long SHIELD tables. He thought about the way that the director looked at him, like he had a different face all of a sudden. And he had spilled the news. His brother was alive…. and wanting revenge.
Clint closed his eyes, remembering the raw pain and grief he had felt all throughout his life whenever he thought about Barney. But now, it was all a reality. His brother had never died, he had left him when they needed each other the most…. Nothing made sense, except that Barney had switched spots on the battle field. They had to take him down. And that was it, the end of time.
Natasha had instantly volunteered to take the mission by herself, but Clint wouldn't let her. She claimed revenge on both of the brothers from each other would cause internal drama but Fury insisted. That was the end of that, or so they thought. Clint had to pull the trigger, and he knew it. He told Natasha that it was too dangerous, and how he couldn't live with knowing the fact that Barney would do anything to harm Clint in any way possible. What better way than through Natasha herself, but he never admitted that aloud. Now he wish he had.
Looking back, he knew he shouldn't have snuck off in the night like a bandit, stealing one of SHIELD's planes and going after Barney himself. But he had to. The impulse was too great of a chance, there was simply no other way. And now here he was… This was no accident. Barney shot down his own brother's plane, knowingly or not the pain was still there. This was no accident at all. Clint was meant to die.
I'm bleeding out for you, I'm bleeding out for you, I'm bleeding out for you, yes I'm bleeding out for you.
Night fell, signaling the blackness of the sun and the end of another day. Yet, for Clint, it seemed like it was signaling the end of time completely. His time was wearing thin, and while he realized what exactly happened and the reasoning, his suspicions were confirmed. He wasn't alone in these woods, after all. Someone was watching him, waiting until the very last moment to strike. Clint knew who it was too… It had to be Barney. Why else would he shoot down his own brother's aircraft, knowingly or not? It just didn't add up. But now, Clint was sure he knew the truth. Barney was going to get his revenge, whether the younger brother knew when it was going to occur or not, and there was nothing Clint could do about it. He could just close his eyes and wait for the end to come.
She appeared at the haze of his vision again, this time without him having to close his eyes. He bit down on his tongue, making sure that he stayed awake for this one. He couldn't leave her, just yet. He had to at least speak with her one last time.
But it wasn't him who spoke first.
Hands scrabbled at his cut and bloody face frantically, and he felt the realness of them like it wasn't actually an illusion after all. Perhaps he was closer to death than he originally thought. Damn.
"Clint?" Natasha's soft voice cracked. "Barton, stay with me!"
He pursed his lips to form a response but no words seemed to want to come out. There was nothing to say. The Natasha in his mind shook her head frantically, "God dammit stay with me! Eyes open!"
The archer smiled just at the sight and sound of her, whispering softly, "I love you Nat." His eyes fluttered open once more and then closed, accepting defeat. His mind still whirled with thoughts as he waited for death - or Barney - to take him. But something stopped him.
"Damn you Barton, I love you too," was the soft response, seemingly inaudible but Clint heard it like it was being shouted on a clear day. That was new. And then came a single slap across the cheek so hard that Clint thought he was going to vomit the remaining blood he had left in his body.
He jolted upright for a second, coughing, "What the hell?" He shook his head, clearing his thoughts and expecting the image of Natasha to fade into one of his now demonic brother, but she was still standing there. Wait a minute….
"You are not allowed to die on me," the (real?) Natasha declared, crouching down beside the archer. "You cannot leave me." Clint fluttered his eyelids open and closed a few times, and that seemed like a good enough response for now. He sank back down into the grass, feeling the pain of the slap and the damage still done to his body. There really was no going back, except now…
"But- but-" he stammered, trying to make sense of things.
Natasha shook her head, "Shush Clint, it's okay. I'm here. I knew you were going to do something stupid, and I was right. So I followed you here. Fury will not be happy about this, you know. When we get back, he's going to have our throats and-" She broke off, just rambling on for something - anything - to say to keep Clint's thoughts running.
Clint shook his head, "Is it really you?" Natasha nodded once, the tears finally filling up in her eyes, and she placed her hand on top of the archer's in both a show of admiration and proving that she wasn't a figment of his own imagination. Clint leaned his head back into the grass, moaning out loud in a mixture of everything. He couldn't handle all of this right now! Why of all times did it have to be now? Here he was, bleeding his life out in front of the woman he loved and he didn't have the decency to say anything else. He almost laughed out loud, what was the world coming to?
'Cause I'm bleeding out. So if the last thing that I do is bring you down, I'll bleed out for you. So I bare my skin and I count my sins and I close my eyes and I take it in, and I'm bleeding out.
"We'll get this thing out of you and patch you up," Natasha pressed on. "And then you'll be fine by morning. It'll all work out, you'll see."
Clint let out a stiff little chuckle, making sure not to disturb the inner workings of his ruined body, "Nat, let's be serious here." He paused, hissing through clenched teeth, before continuing, "Barney will come looking for me. Tell him that you killed me off, dealt the final bow, you can get the inside scoop." He trailed off as he caught sight of the black widow shaking her head.
"No Clint, please. Don't make me do this. I can't do this without you."
He sighed, fighting his own tears that were threatening to stream down his cheeks. He hated doing this to her, he hated everything about this, but damn family left him no other choice. This was the end. "I - I'm sorry Nat," he whispered, his breathing becoming shallower and shallower by the minute. "I've always loved you and please… finish the job. I - I won't rest until I see you again."
"Clinton Barton, you stupid asshole," Natasha insisted. "Do not do this to me; I cannot be broken, especially by you. Damn you, I love you." And those were the last words that Clint let enter his ears, one last smile playing over his lips before he succumbed to the final darkness.
I'm bleeding out for you, for you.