Red hair was beautiful, at least he thought so. Scarlet locks that came crashing down and could be seen from a mile off. Distinctive and gorgeous, especially on her. It was one of the many things about her he loved; her stunning crimson waves. When had first seen her, he'd noticed her hair and wanted to know more, which admittedly wasn't good news at the time. She had never liked it much but he thought that it would be important one day.

"Agent Barton, we're sorry to inform you that as of last night we have had to declare Agent Romanoff dead. She requested you be allowed to see her body, but you may not want to, she was hurt pretty bad." The voices were closing in on him, stupid chatter bombarding his ears.

"No, I have to see her, I need to make sure she's alr-..." he trailed off wondering what he was saying. Nat was dead, he couldn't ever check on her again. But he needed to make sure her eyes were shut, her mouth closed and her hair combed the way she liked it.

"I understand this is hard Agent Barton, she said to take you to her locker, that there was an envelope there for you." More stupid talking. Nat was dead and these people wouldn't shut up about it.

"A letter. From her. In case she," he couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't say the last word because that would mean accepting she was gone, never to return. He ran out the room, down the corridor, to her locker. Gently he put in the combination and opened the door and an envelope addressed to him fell to his feet. He bent down to pick it up, hands trembling. He ripped it open and pulled out the paper.

Dear Clint, it read

If you are reading this I am dead or about to die any second and that's okay. I hope it's a good death and it wasn't a pathetic, domestic cause. I do worry about what you'll do when I'm gone though. I think once I'm gone you won't be coming back to SHIELD or the Avengers for awhile. And you might cut yourself off from the world, which you should never do. Don't cut yourself off, Clint. And if you want to remember me, then you can do one thing. That's all. One thing. Have a good life. Do that for me, Clint. Have a fantastic life. Just don't kill yourself and don't throw your life away and don't be careless, live on for me, if you can.

Put locks of my hair in all of the lockets, with a picture. Take care of her and give her my arrow necklace.

Enclosed is my will.

Love, Nat

He pulled out the will and read it through twice.

Dearest friends, family and court officials: In the event you are reading this, I have departed this world and I'm not coming back. Don't despair, I only hope I died in action or as a result of action, and that you will remember me for being bad ass and awesome as well as one of the avengers. As a reward for being the best partner in crime and friend anyone could ask for, Clint Barton (providing he outlives me) gets to deal with all of my shit that isn't listed below. He also gets a most of my weapons and any of my personal items that he may want. Tony Stark can have my Latin books and Bruce Banner can have my science books. Steve Rogers can have my ancient portable DVD player. Thor can have my copy of 'the complete works of Shakespeare'. To Virginia 'Pepper' Potts I leave all my sappy romance novels and films. Maria Hill can have my pocket guns and Nick Fury can have my bazooka. None of you better take this lightly!

As to what to do with my body, Clint please cut off my hair and keep a lock or two at least then have an open casket funeral before burning my remains. At my funeral I want the most inappropriate songs possible.

One final thing, please be happy. My life was full of horrors, but in the end I was happy with the way things worked out. Don't let Clint do anything stupid.
Yours, Natalia Alianovna Romanova
Witness: Nicholas J. Fury.

Clint stumbled his way back to the medical room in which Natasha's body was being held. Whoever had said she'd been roughed up pretty bad was right, she had a cut with swelling under her right eye, her right arm and leg had been mangled and she had a rather bad gash on her stomach along with 6 bullet wounds.

She doesn't look dead though, he thought, she just looks like she's asleep. Wiping off the tears that had started to trickle down his cheeks, he took her scarlet locks and, using a bit of string, tied them into a ponytail. With a deep breath he took out a knife and all but shaved the hair off of her lifeless body. Through his waterfall of tears he grabbed the crimson hair and put it in a paper bag he'd found in the envelope. He kissed her forehead and cried as he removed her arrow necklace and left the room.

Through gallons of tears he made his way home.

"DADDY!" a small ginger girl yelled then ran up to him and hugged him tight.

"Hey kiddo, you alright?" Clint asked faking a smile.

"Yeah, why are you crying? Where's Momma?" inquired his daughter

"Masha, your mother can't come home. She got hurt real bad," he was chocking back tears and hugging her tight.

"Where is she? When can she home?" Ash crumpled her face up, unsure whether or not she should be upset.

"She isn't gonna come back," Clint explained.

"Why not? Can we go see her?"

"Ash, Momma didn't make it."

"Didn't make what?"

"It out of surgery. She died"

"What does died mean?"

"Do you know what alive is?" Ash nodded slowly "Dead is the opposite, when the persons body can't work any more . It happens for lots of reasons,but Momma was hurt too much to get better."

"What happens now?"

"We try to do our best, just the two of us. We remember Momma. It's alright to feel sad, that's good."

"What happens to Momma? Will she be alright?"

"Let me explain it this way; In our head we have something like an on/off switch and when your alive, the switch is on. But when you die, it means your body decided to flick the switch and everything stops working. You can't flick it back on. We will have a sad get together of people who cared about Momma and say a proper goodbye."

"What's in the bag?"

"Momma wanted you to have this," he delicately pulled out the arrow necklace that had meant so much to Natasha.

"Can you put it on me?" she turned around and lifted up her mess of red curls. Clint gently put the small chain around Ash's neck.

"There, beautiful. Momma also wanted you to have a locket. It will be ready in a few days. Now how about milk and cookie before bed?"

Once Ash was in bed, Clint called Fury and arranged the funeral for the next week.

"Agent Barton, do you have something to say prepared?" Fury was conducting the ceremony and invited Clint up to give a eulogy.

Taking his place behind the podium, he began to talk. "I first met Natasha in 2003, when I was sent to kill her. Obviously, I didn't. I brought her in and we became partner, friends and, over time, more. We got married in 2012 after the battle of New York. Our daughter Masha was born in 2013.
I will always love Nat. She wasn't perfect, she had lots of red in her ledger and was cold. She was broken, smashed, cracked and had been unmade so many times she lost count. But she was amazing. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever met, inside and out. She had a great sense of humour and cared about everyone here. She was the sort of person who would lay down her life for someone she cared about if she had to. She... She... She..." He couldn't stand it any more. The tears that had been slowly creeping out overwhelmed him and came bursting out as he began break down in front of everyone. Masha ran up to her dad and hugged his legs. Maria Hill went up to Clint and put a hand on his back and walked him back to his seat, Ash still clinging on. She took the paper off him and went and read the rest herself.

"She was the best friend I could of asked for. She could make me laugh on my worst days and I wish I got to say goodbye. She was so beautiful and probably smarter than anyone else I've ever met. I needed her, I still do. But I see her all the time. I see her in crowds sometimes, a flash of red hair and I think I hear her laugh, but it's gone as fast as it came. I see her at home, doing the things she liked to do. Most importantly though, I see her in our daughter. Her name is Russian and means rebellious because Nat hoped Ash would have the same spirit as us. Every time I look at Ash, I see her mother because Ash has the fiery red curls and the fire in her eyes that her mother did. It comforts me to know that Masha will always have the spirit of her mother inside of her. And that comforts me. I wish I had had more time with her"

Her red hair was beautiful until the end. It helped her daughter remember her. In a way, through her hair she lived on forever.