Authors Note: You might not want to read this fic because it's a little like SPN. Everybody you love dies. ((please dont hate me))

Nothing hurts more than losing someone you love. No physical pain could ever amount the too empty space left in your life. You attend the funeral in that dreaded black outfit you only wear for the worst of occasions. You grieve and you mourn but most of all you wish for them to come back, to see their smile for one last time and feel the warmth of their body pressed against yours in a strong hug. The worst part is everybody telling you that it gets better because it never really does; nothing is ever quite the same again. You fall into a new routine and start a new way of going about your life but even after a year you still hear their laugh and think you pass by them on the street. And after years of being a SHIELD agent you would think Clint Barton would be used to the pain of losing some one he cared about. He has lost partners, friends, and lovers to the life he lived devoted to saving the world; but nothing hurt him more than losing Tony. Nothing.

The thing was, he didn't lose Tony in a bombing or an alien invasion, it was a normal everyday car crash that took the life of the person that Clint cared about most, he didn't realize it until later that Tony had left the world in the same fashion that his parents had. His parents left together though, while Clint survived, made it out with a cracked rib and a shattered heart because Tony was killed on impact. Clint tried his best to bring him back before the EMT's arrived and pulled him off of Tony's limp body, kicking and screaming for them to do something, to just bring Tony back before clasping into Natasha's arms when she arrived on the scene, silently crying into her shoulder until he was cleared and she took him back to Stark tower.

Clint stood silently in the back at his funeral. There was a large number of people in attendance and that only pissed him off. None of them had ever actually cared about Tony like he had. They were just big shots pretending to mourn for the publicity, just like every time Tony had gotten dressed up and went out strutting on the red carpet for some stupid event. Tony had begged Clint on multiple occasions to come out with him but Clint would only chuckle and kiss him on the check before handing him his coat. Now, Clint regrets not going, not spending every possible second with him. He didn't start to cry until Pepper came and stood next to him, taking his hand and squeezing it.

Then for months buried himself in SHIELD missions, going straight from one assignment to the next. He traveled the globe at least twice with multiple hospital visits until he nearly died in Moscow. That's when Fury showed up, "Look Clint, you're one our best agents and we have already taken enough loss this year. We cannot afford to lose you too."

Clint rolled his eyes in his hospital bed, "I'm fine director, mission ready in a week."

"A week my ass! You are going home, Barton. Back to the avengers, back to Stark tower, back to where you are needed," Fury yelled, "And that's an order."

Going back to Stark tower hurt more than almost dying. He saw Tony everywhere, hell; the building was named after him. Pictures hanging on the wall, JARVIS still welcoming him home, if he could call it his home without Tony, his music still playing in the elevator. His body ached from his nonstop missions and injuries. Out of habit, Clint took the elevator all the way up to what used to be Tony and his floor, throwing his bag carelessly on the floor and headed for the shower. Letting the hot water work out some of the kinks in his muscles and remove the dirt from his hair before drying off and changing into a pair of sweatpants and one of Tony's old shirts. He turned off the lights and climbed into the large bed that felt empty without Tony next to him and the room seemed unusually dark without the faint glow of the arc reactor to cast gentle shadows across the walls.

Clint took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting Tony's scent overcome his senses. Expensive cologne and whiskey mixed with metal and for a brief second he didn't feel alone, for the first time in months he felt as if it was okay again. The moment disappeared and Clint was left in the darkness again, starring at the empty space in the bed next to him for hours before finally giving into his exhaustion and falling asleep.

He started working with the Avengers again, saving the world just like he used to, but now there was no reward. No shameless flirting over the Comms, no one flying by and stealing and arrow out of his quiver, no one to drink with after the mission was over. Clint saved the world because that's what Tony had done and that's what Tony would still be doing if he wouldn't had died in the most domestic way possible. He did it as recklessly as possible without endangering he rest of the time. He wasn't really suicidal but he definitely wasn't trying to be safe. But when his time came Clint welcomed it.

Of course it wasn't an ordinary mission, a full on alien invasion. Obviously Clint got the big way to go. He fell victim to a bombing, shrapnel everywhere, making its way through his body. Natasha was first to him, as always. "Hey, Clint," She half smiled, looking at his wounds before picking up his head, "It's not that bad, you're gonna make it." She promised.

Clint tried to laugh but ended up coughing up blood, "It's okay Nat, you don't have to lie, you have always been a terrible lair when you're upset."

Tasha shook her head, "No, we are gonna make it out of this Clint, the teams on the way, you're gonna be fine."

Clint smiled up at his longtime friend with his eyes gently closing, "Nah, I've got somewhere to be; he's waited long enough dontcha' think?"