Author's Note: A short drabble I wrote for a prompt. Slightly devastating. Hope you enjoy
They don't have services for SHIELD agents. They added the name to the wall of marble in the lobby. Clint sat by hers as the sun went down on the fifth day.
He was sure people had spoke to him. Rogers had stayed with him through the first night, leaning against the wall in stiff attention, holding vigil. He had lost plenty of friends, he knew that there was nothing to say or do. So he just stayed. Clint appreciated it even if he didn't say it. Rogers had pat him on the shoulder and left, letting him be alone.
Stark had been next. He hadn't stayed long, seemingly too antsy to be able to handle his friend who he normally traded sarcastic remarks looking so dead and lifeless. But he had put a small device holding pictures Clint didn't even know existed of him and Natasha.
Thor and Banner were next but he didn't remember what they said, or what Fury said. He reached over his shoulder, fingertips tracing the words again. As the sun went down, he talked to her again like he had the nights before. "A car crash. I can't believe you went out in a car crash, Nat." He shook his head, smirking bitterly. "So boring. If it had been the other way around, you would be so passed at me."
He sighed, the marble warm from the sun. Clint shook his head again. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now, Nat." He confessed, voice breaking. He let his head fall back against the marble with a clunk. "I don't know what I did before." He kept trying to remember, but he came up blank. All he could remember was her laughing, her rolling her eyes at him, kissing her, the smell of her hair, the sound of her voice, the sound of her singing in Russian when he was upset.
"I know you knew. I told you with every story and every cover." Clint let out a shuddering breath. "You were everything, the color, the other half to my whole." He snorted, shaking his head. "That's why you liked me telling you. You never fooled me."
After a moment he spoke again, "I bet you think I'm going to tell you that I love you." He closed blue eyes, hand tight on the camera that had the pictures of them. Clint couldn't look at them again, but they were burned into his mind. Everything was playing over and over. He shook his head, smirking as tears ran down his face. "Fuck you, Nat. Fuck you." he said, voice breaking. "For dying first."