Little one-shot...Feed back would be greatly appreciated.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers, The Song, or Lee Brice
Natasha was oblivious to the world as she sat alone in SHIELDS lunch room. The food in front of her was untouched and had long gone cold while the senior agent stared off into space. People passed by her, trying to offer condolences, but she remained oblivious to them all. She was off in her own world, a world where everything still made sense. A world where she still had a friend. It had been two weeks. Two weeks and she will still sitting here like a ghost; part of her had died and there was no way to get it back.
"Natasha." Coulson's voice seemed far off and she ignored it. "Come on." He touched her arm and shook her gently. "Romanoff, snap out of it!" His voice was a bit firmer.
"Huh?" She looked up with a frown. "What do you want?"
"I have something for you."
"I can't take an assignment right now Coulson- you know that. Hell, I can't even seem to function." She sighed in frustration.
"It isn't an assignment. Come here."
Natasha forced herself to stand and followed Coulson through the base, trying to collect her thoughts. She knew mourning and shutting the world off wasn't the right thing to do, but it felt right. She just wanted to be alone; no, she wanted her friend. A friend she couldn't have. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat as Coulson lead her outside and into the parking lot. The sun made her wince and she frowned, wondering what he had drug her out here for.
"Coulson, what is going on?" She demanded irritably, crossing her arms.
"This." They had stopped beside a brown and tan pickup truck. It was a dodge, a beat up dodge. There were dents in the doors and mud caked the tires. Coulson tossed her a set of keys and she caught them instinctively, looking down at them. Another lump formed in her throat as she realized who's they were; why would he be giving her these?
"Phil, I-"
"He would have wanted you to have it." Coulson gave her shoulder a squeeze before turning on his heel and walking back to the base, leaving Natasha to stand alone beside the truck. She looked it over once more and took a deep breath before unlocking the door, pulling it open gently, as if it would break at the slightest pressure.
Eighty-Nine Cents in the ash tray
Half empty bottle of Gatorade rolling in the floorboard
That dirty Braves cap on the dash
Dog tags hangin' from the rear view
Old Skoal can, and cowboy boots and a Go Army Shirt folded in the back
Natasha slid into the worn leather seat and took a deep breath, inhaling the sent of the truck. It smelt just like him; a faint mixture of old spice, sweat, and something she could never figure out. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cracked head rest, trying to keep the tears back. How had this happened? How was she supposed to go on without him? He wasn't just her partner, he was her friend. No, he was the man she had loved. And now he was gone. A hiccup shook her body and she snapped out of her thoughts, opening her eyes and glancing around the cab. A few coins were tossed in the ashtray, along with several gum wrappers. Several bottles were thrown onto the floor board of the passenger's side, along with a pair of dirty sneakers; he had never been a clean person.
A faint smile appeared on her face as she reached up and pulled the baseball cap off the dashboard; it was a Stark Industries hat- a forced present from Tony. There were several grease spots on the bill, where a dirty hand had reached up to adjust the cap. She sat it in the seat beside her and turned to the rear view mirror, trying to control her emotions as she gently reached up to touch the dog dags that hung there. She read the inscription before pulling them off and draping them around her own neck. She tucked them inside her shirt and, despite the cool weather, the metal felt warm as it touched her skin as if it was his own touch. Satisfied, she turned to the back seat, rolling her eyes as she recognized the items; a pair of worn cowboy boots and a Skoal can were tossed onto the floor board, untouched for years. They had been from their first undercover mission where he had dressed as a cowboy in a small Texas town. Natasha always teased him about it and he had decided to keep them for the sake of memories. A shirt was folded up on the back seat and she reached for it, pressing it to her nose before sitting it beside the cap.
I leave that radio playing
That same ole country station where ya left it
Yeah, man I crank it up
And you'd probably punch my arm right now
If you saw this tear rollin' down on my face
Hey, man I'm tryin' to be tough
Natasha slid the keys into the engine and turned them, sighing as the engine rumbled to life. It was loud and obnoxious, but it was his. She turned the radio on and country music drifted from the speakers, much to her surprise. She listened for a moment before turning it up, closing her eyes as she tried to imagine him driving around singing the old songs. A smile touched her lips and she reached up to wipe the tear away. If he was here he would tease her and tell her not to cry. He would give her a hug, tell her everything is going to be alright. But he wasn't here, and he never would be again. Natasha felt the sob building in her body and she tried to hold it back; she had to be tough for him. He wouldn't want her to act like she was, but then again he would never know what it felt like to miss someone this bad.
I've cussed, I've prayed, I've said goodbye
Shook my fist and asked God why
These days when I'm missing you this much
"I miss you Clint." Natasha couldn't hold the tears back anymore as she rested her head on the steering wheel, tears streaming down her face. Why would he leave her like this? How could he leave her like this? He had promised he would always be there and now he was gone. "You promised! You promised you would always be here!" Natasha yelled into the empty cab, banging her fist against the dash board as the tears continued to flow. She knew that no amount of yelling or cussing could bring him back but she didn't care at the moment. She had never been trained for this; she didn't know how to cope with loosing him. He wasn't like the Captain either- they wouldn't find him years later and bring him back. He would always be dead. Natasha finally sat up and wiped her tears away, swallowing the lump in her throat. He might be gone, but she was still going to have to go on. She would have to keep living for him. And she knew exactly how to do it.
I drive your truck
I roll every window down
And I burn up
Every back road in this town
I find a field, I tear it up
Til all the pain's a cloud of dust
Yeah, sometimes I drive your truck
Natasha pushed the truck's transmission into drive and gently pushed the gas pedal down, causing the truck to roll forward with a rumble. She navigated her way out of the base, making it through the security points without any trouble; everyone knew who she was and everyone knew not to mess with her. As soon as she hit the road she sped up, rolling the windows down and turning the music up. She let her mind carry her away back to the better days in her life, the days where Clint had been with her. She thought back to their first kiss, the first night they had shared a bed together in Budapest, the brief kisses they would steal at the base, and the countless times he had been there for her.
Natasha drove without paying attention to where she was going, her speed changing with her mood. The fence lines sped by in a blur and soon she found herself in the middle of no where, pushing the truck to its limits. Finally, as her anger and sadness began to dull, she slowed the truck down to a stop and put it in park. She looked out over the empty field and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath; it was if she could feel Clint sitting there beside her. For a moment she could hear him telling her that he loved her, but she knew it was in her head. Another fat tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away before leaning her forehead against the steering wheel.
"I don't understand Clint...I don't understand why you had to leave me, but I know you are still here with me. I know you wouldn't want me to act like this, but it is hard. I miss you...a lot." Natasha felt slightly silly talking to the empty cab, but the ache in her heart was slowly beginning to let up. "I'll try to stay strong, for you. I love you Clint...and I hope you don't mind if I drive your truck."