Like I said before, I'm French, and English is not my native language, so I already apologize for all the mistakes that may appear in this text. Still, I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I took pleasure in writing it. Special thanks to my beta and Sky Fenty.
Cold Embrace
Death was twirling around her in a fascinating dance made of chaos and harmony. First, it was just people falling around her, agonizing in the streets under the assault of some alien menace. Then, it was the panic, hauling, storming in some kind of monstrous cataclysm.
Then, silence.
A welcome silence, sweet and bitter at the same time, an embrace that she saw and caused so many times before, without experiencing it.
Come on, Nat.
The sudden realization didn't bring her peace. All what they said about death and afterlife was a big lie to hide the terror. Before nothingness.
oOo
The vision of her dead body hurt him. It hurt him like nothing before to see her peaceful face in this chaos. It wasn't her. She was always alert and ready, always tense, and this even in her deepest sleep.
But she wasn't sleeping.
Clint's spirit was focusing on too many details; the way her hair was tinted with blood, the fact that she was still gripping her gun way too tightly, how he could see, even from the distance, the frowning of her brows as a slight response to the pain. All these to forget that she was dead.
oOo
Thor, the mighty thundering Thor was now silent.
Way too silent.
He was a true warrior from Asgard, he saw so many other warriors and comrades-in-arms die that he was always defying death to avenge the fallen. But right now, he was just staring in disbelief.
He contemplated the overwhelming grief on his friend faces. Was it possible? Was she really dead? This woman always appeared to him as invincible – at least, for a Midgardian – and strong-willed. She was a true master assassin.
She couldn't be dead. That was impossible.
But the sorrow making the atmosphere muggy told him otherwise.
oOo
Well, that was unexpected, wasn't it?
Many thoughts came to his mind as he was staring at the body. Trivial things such as how she would never had sleep with him anyways – those sexy murderers, all the same. Or more scientific statements such as how she could have avoided the lethal blow. Oh, that was such a pity that their little team had just lost their little feminine touch. Strangely, he worried briefly about Pepper.
Tony tried to occupy his brain with a bunch of thoughts, of all kinds, of all dimensions, relevant or not; anything to ignore the loss.
oOo
True grief.
Steve hated his overdeveloped feelings. He hated to feel like that each time someone he cared about died. It made him want to blow his head so he would never feel again that devastating pain in the heart. Of course, he wouldn't do such a thing; he was too straight. He was needed. He was Captain America.
But still. A mischievous voice whispered awful things to him. Like how he failed to keep the team coordinate, how he let his comrade die.
As a soldier, he should have been proud of her sacrifice.
As a friend, he cried.
oOo
How lucky you are, Natasha.
That was Bruce's first reaction. Obnoxious. It was what he considered as a purple thought, a thought from him, the bitter doctor, the desperate human. The green feelings, however, were filled with rage and sadness.
Look at you, Banner, the 'other guy' is more human than you.
He took his head between his hands. He tried to avoid the internal conflict, to take control over his body. But the other one was struggling against him, feeding his anger, revolted by the death of Natasha. They should have stopped it.
A roar broke the silence.
Sorrowful.