My take on what might have happened had Loki actually captured Natasha and escaped. I'm hoping to make it a two-shot with Clint's reaction as the second chapter (his portion of Loki's threat.) I own nothing. It's okay to disagree with this interpretation- this is just one take on how things may have gone!
She had often wondered what it would be like on the other side of the gun.
She wondered what it would be like to stare into the black hole of the barrel that would erupt at any second. She wondered what went through their heads: did they think of their families? Did they ask what they could have done to make their lives more worthwhile? Did they latch onto their faith and pray as the words jumbled in their heads? Or did their thoughts cease to exist long before the bullet lodged itself in their brains?
She didn't know.
She didn't want to die like this.
He was walking towards her, slowly, mechanically. That was what he was now—unthinking, robotic, an empty shell that used to be Clint Barton.
His face was now just centimeters from hers; she could feel his breath on her mouth. He smelled of sulfur and must. The old Clint smelled like cedar, soap, and Crest toothpaste.
She wanted her old Clint.
"You're going to die, Agent Romanoff," Loki had whispered into her ear minutes ago, just before he left the damp prison cell to Clint Barton's mercy. His lips brushed against her ear and she suppressed a shudder. She would not show weakness here.
"You bastard." She spat the words out as if trying to get a bad taste out of her mouth. Her voice sounded alien to her: it was trembling and raspy, like that of someone approaching death. "The only person who's going to die is—"
"Natalia Romanova." It was Clint speaking now.
She was going to die.
"No, no, not Natalia." She was trembling more now; her bloody hand reached forward to touch him. "It's Nat, remember? Nat Romanoff."
"You're no one to me."
It was as if someone had kicked her in the stomach. She couldn't speak, she couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She felt like she was going to cry.
"Clint, baby, don't say that. You don't mean that. It's me, Natasha—your partner. Your best friend." Her voice sounded pleading; she had long ago made a vow to never beg in her life, but she was willing to now. She would get down on her knees if it meant bringing her Clint back.
"I know exactly who you are," the body of Clint said in a deadened voice. "You're a nobody; an abomination. You've done so much bad that you're worth more dead than alive. When I look at you, all I see is a dead body of somebody I used to know. And the best part is that you're going to die knowing that. You're nothing, Natalia; I could have finished you, snapped your pathetic little neck when Fury had asked me to, and no one would have cared. They'd be too busy celebrating."
Natasha thought she let out a sob, but she wasn't sure; it sounded more like an animal that had just been shot. It was guttural and primal, and every time it echoed off the walls Natasha shook harder. She felt numb. She just wanted this to end. She wanted her Clint.
"Clint, please, listen to me." Natasha shakily got up. Her leg was starting to buckle—it throbbed so much—but she didn't care. She needed to touch him, to hug him, to know that this nightmare was just that—a nightmare. She needed to wake up in his arms in their apartment, like she did every night.
This wasn't happening.
She was going to die.
"This isn't you." Was she saying it to him or to herself? "It's me. It's Natasha. Please, please remember me, I'm begging you. We're going to get through this; we're going to change you back and we're going to go home and be together and pretend this never happened. You can beat this, Clint—we can beat this. Please, baby, I need you to do this for me." She was getting closer to him; she could almost touch him.
Pain.
Incredible pain.
It rippled down her spine and radiated through her entire body, culminating in the tip of her head. She screamed. And then...
Nothing.
She fell to the ground.
She couldn't move; why couldn't she move?
She felt something warm and sticky seeping through the back of her shirt—it started near her tailbone and was rapidly spreading in all directions. She realized with a sinking heart that it was blood; it was her blood. Clint had lodged a knife into her spine, cutting off the nerves and rendering her paralyzed. She felt sick. She wanted to throw up.
She was going to die.
All senses were lost; her head was spinning, her limbs tingled, her breath came in short, ragged gasps. She could hear Clint walking towards her—his shoes squelched in the puddle of blood that was seeping from her wound onto the floor. He fell to his knees beside her, clutching her chin in his hand and yanking it so that she could see his icy eyes.
"Clint, honey, if you're in there, I love—"
His fingers closed around her throat. They were rough and calloused, such a stark contrast to the tender ones that had caressed her face so many times before. Air escaped her lungs; she had uttered her last words. She felt helpless. All she could do was wait.
They say that before you die your whole life flashes before your eyes. Natasha had never believed in clichés; they were corny and cheap used only by those whose lives were cumbersome and tedious. But she was wrong; that seemed to have become a pattern lately.
Not that it would last much longer.
Six years ago: the first time she saw Clint, on that snow-covered roof in St. Petersburg. He was confident, brooding, unlike anyone she had ever seen before. He said he believed in her. He had given her a chance.
No one had done that before.
Change scene, to their first mission together, a meth lab in Shanghai. They had moved in tandem, as one instead of two, their actions synchronized, their breaths matched. They won.
He bought her a drink.
Seven months later: their first fight. Not just an argument—they had those all the time—but a full-blown fight, complete with kicking and screaming and several loud crashes. What was it about? She had gone through his things and found a letter. Or maybe it was a picture. She couldn't remember now; her vision was fading and it was getting harder to think. She didn't apologize, he didn't speak to her. Three days later they moved on.
She wanted to tell him she was sorry.
A muggy bog in Cambodia: he kissed her. It was beautiful, magical; she was floating and nothing could touch her. Was she floating now? Her body felt numb... There was nothing romantic about it—mosquitos were leaving welts in their skin and sweat trickled down their noses and into their meshed mouths. But she didn't care; for them, it made sense. For them, it was perfect. She had kissed many men in her life, but never like this.
She couldn't feel her lips.
The first time they made love. It wasn't anything like she had fantasized; it was slow, passionate, tender. The lust was there, but it wasn't the force that drove them—she wanted to touch him, to love him, to be as close to him as humanly possible. Every kiss, every caress reminded her that she was his, and he was hers; that night, no one and nothing else existed—it was just the two of them.
The numbness was spreading to her body.
He told her he loved her.
They had just finished a mission in Bangladesh, and they went back to their hotel to call it a night. Her head was on his chest; she could feel the warmth of his skin, the beating of his heart. His heart always beat faster when they touched. He leaned in and kissed her ear and whispered it, so softly that she wasn't even sure if she had heard correctly. He thought she was asleep. She didn't reply, and eventually the two drifted off. To her knowledge, Clint had never repeated it, at least not to her.
Why hadn't she said it back? What was wrong with her?
Blackness was closing in—she had mere seconds left before it would be permanent. Was this what everyone she killed had gone through? She didn't feel guilty; she couldn't feel anything.
She was going to die.
At least, in some way, she would die in the arms of the man she loved.
That was something, she guessed.
Let me know what you think! It's okay if you disagree with this interpretation. Clint's side will be up soon. Feedback is appreciated!