Chapter 1: Crashing
"He's not coming back."
Somehow, the words seemed to echo inside her head without penetrating her brain, because they made absolutely no sense. None at all. That was why everyone was staring at the poor, young S.H.I.E.L.D. agent –it was because they felt sorry for him…
But they weren't staring at him anymore; they were staring at her. Because somehow they understood the words that she, fluent in a dozen languages, could not.
He's not coming back.
It had started out like a good day. Clint was still away on a mission, but for once, Stark Tower hadn't felt empty because of it. She, Tony, Pepper, Bruce, and Steve had hung out and actually had civilized conversation for once, at least for a little while. Then she'd had to beat Tony up, but that was normal and expected. They'd goofed off, and she'd actually let herself be a little looser for once. They'd played Just Dance and sung karaoke, and tonight they'd ordered pizza and planned to watch a movie which was full of actors that Tony claimed looked just like them.
When the doorbell had rung and J.A.R.V.I.S. had buzzed up, they'd thought it was the pizza delivery boy.
They'd he'd asked for Natasha, and she'd known something was wrong, and she'd fought to keep panic from her face. When he'd said it was about Clint, she'd felt her heart stop.
He's not coming back.
"No," she whispered.
"I'm sorry," he said.
She couldn't speak.
"What happened?" Tony asked. He started to put his arm around Natasha, then seemed to realize it might be a bad idea.
Instead, he handed her a tissue, one that actually looked clean.
And then the world was truly ending, because Tony was doing something right and trying to help her, and that never happened, because he was supposed to be the annoying, bratty, childish one. Instead, she felt like the child.
"Caught in an explosion while saving a group of innocent civilians."
"He was always too good for me," Natasha whispered, before turning away.
This time Pepper was the kind one, letting her cry into her shoulder.
It was wrong, all wrong. This couldn't be happening, it wasn't possible, he wouldn't do this to her. He was Clint; he was her partner. He wouldn't have left her. Couldn't have.
"I promise I'll always be there, even when you don't want me."
"You're gonna be old and gray, Legolas."
He would be there, because he'd promised, and because she still wanted him by her side. She wanted – no, she needed – her stupid, charming, protective, strong, witty partner.
He would never break a promise.
Unless he had to.
"No, no, no!" she sobbed. "Clint!"
Her head slipped off of Pepper's shoulder, and she fell to her knees, hitting the floor hard, but feeling no pain. Nothing could hurt more than him leaving.
Except him not coming back.
Natasha wasn't sure how long she sat there, rocking back and forth on her knees, silent tears streaming down her face. All she knew was that Clint was gone and no one knew how to react to her reaction. They just stood there behind her, letting her have her grief, occasionally murmuring something about the tragedy of the situation, or sniffling a little themselves. But they didn't try to make it better, or try to tell her that it would be okay, for which she was grateful. Just a murmured apology, a hand on her shoulder – because it wasn't okay.
Not at all.
How could it have been just earlier that day that they'd been joking around, arguing, playing games, and talking about watching a movie? They could've been doing something, could've been saving him. And then he could've been there.
"Clint," Natasha whispered, but of course he didn't respond.
He's not coming back.
He's not coming back.
He's not coming back.
The words repeated themselves over and over. No meaning, and yet far, far too much.
He's not coming back.
He's not coming back.
He's not coming back.
At some point, the pizza delivery boy arrived, and Natasha nearly stabbed him when he asked for money, because how could anyone be thinking about pizza and money at a time like this? Clint was gone! He was gone and he wasn't coming back, and how could he be asking for money? How could he…how could…
She stopped crying.
She dried her tears.
She stood up.
And she walked inside.
She cut a slice of pizza, ate a few bites of it. Ate a few more.
She pretended like it didn't taste like cardboard.
She told pretended like everything was okay.
And she sternly gave herself a list of command in her head, normal things, so that she didn't look like she was breaking of about to throw up.
"Natasha?" Pepper asked hesitantly.
She didn't respond for a moment, because her head was so messed up and she wasn't sure she could speak. "Yes?"
"You're eating the bottom of the box, honey."
And Natasha dissolved into helpless tears at the ridiculousness of it all and the fact that everything was wrong and breaking and at any other time it would've been funny. But the pizza-slice-shaped hole cut in the box by Natasha was like the gaping hole her partner's death had sliced in her heart and there was no humor left in her. There was only pain and tears and the knowledge that despite how badly the universe had just wronged her, it was probably nothing more than what she deserved.
And it was this wrongness that allowed her to look up at Pepper, look at Tony and Steve and Bruce over Pepper's shoulder, and see their faces, which were pained and sad too. It was this wrongness that made her cease her tears suddenly and forced her to speak. It was this wrongness that allowed her to finally say what she had felt for so long.
"I loved him."
A/N: So, I'm planning on making this a 3-part story, with the next part going up sometime this week. PLEASE review and let me know what you think! I love hearing your opinions on things that I write.
Thanks for reading!
-DP
