Part two to Gone. This time, in Clint's viewpoint. I'm sorry if he seems OOC, I'm not good with this.

It's been five years, Tasha. You're still on your six year mission that you did not have to go to yet you went anyway. You're a really reasonable woman, but I still don't understand why you went on a goddamn mission for six years.

I know that I'm being stubborn and immature. I just don't know why you decided to take the mission. I asked if you wanted me to come, you said "no." Why did you say "no"? I thought we were friends. We're supposed to work together, Tasha.

I feel so lonely without you. All I can think of is your tough demeanor, and how in the inside, you're such a caring person. You're loving. You're kind. You're beautiful.

Why didn't you want me to come with you on the mission? We went on missions longer than that, together. Remember Budapest? Remember what happened that night in September? I wouldn't be surprised if you don't, you and I remember Budapest very differently.

I went out to get some coffee for Steve and Tony. At the Starbucks, I met a barista named Ashley. We chatted, and switched numbers. She's nice, but she isn't as nice as you, and I don't know her well enough.

It turned out that Ashley just wanted to be my friend, since she has a girlfriend named Natalie. Natalie's nice, too. We're all friends, but we haven't spoken in a while.

Tony and I were at a bar and I was extremely drunk, while Tony was trying to drink to a minimum, since he was my ride home. I don't know what the hell came over me, but I know that I was saying stuff about how I miss you and all. Tony said I was out of it; I was crying, even.

Can you imagine that? Me, crying? It seems really crazy, but I was crying. Luckily, not much attention was drawn to us in the bar. I hated crying in public.

I don't even know why I'm saying this. I love you. I was heartbroken that you were gonna go on another mission, alone, for a long period of time. It did happen before. You know that, I know that. You had to go to Germany—no, you didn't have to. You wanted to. It was a seven month mission, right? We were in the point of the relationship where there were problems. Apparently, I did something wrong.

You could just tell me what I did wrong, instead of avoiding me for six years. Six years is a long damn time, too long to miss you. I could've fixed my mistakes. We could have talked about it. I know that it's not your thing, since, you'd rather lock yourself up to calm your emotions. That's what normal couples do if they want to stay in a relationship; they talk about what's on their mind. But we are not a normal couple.

I guess I was just worried about you. There have been so many times when you almost died in action, and I had to be the one to save the day. To save you.

I didn't bother contacting you because I was enough of a coward to try and forget that you'd probably be gone. I don't want you to be gone. I want you, me, together. I want you every day of my life. I don't want our last memory to be at the goddamn planes, with me begging you not to go like a little boy in a candy shop.

I'm gonna go on a mission next week, and I'm returning the two days after that. I guess I have to help hunt down a mutant culprit who used his powers for "world peace." Who knows, I'm probably gonna die with you on my mind. You're a distraction, and I can't get enough of you.

I miss you so much, Tasha. Come home.

RIP Clinton Francis "Clint" Barton. 1978 - 2012. Died in action. An archer, lover, and hero.